


Witchcraft 101

by Nebulous_Bounds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AVPM References, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Basically a teen girl is reincarnated as Harry Potter, But he's not that bad tbh, Descriptions of Wounds (?), Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Good Albus Dumbledore, He's made some questionable decisions, I know it's cringe, I want it to be known that I don't care if I'm cringe, I'm rambling whoops, I'm used to writing argumentative essays so I may be a little formal with wording, It's mostly good writing, I’ll have an order of one (1), Let him be ugly you cowards, Live out your fantasy of being Harry Potter right here folks, Main character is biased against Dumbledore, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, My First Fanfic, No Bashing, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Really Canon Divergent after OotP, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Snakeface Voldemort, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, Watch out there's gay in here, but hear me out, but his heart's in the right place, i'm living my best life, mildly scraping the fourth wall, no beta we die like men, not romance oriented, shameless self-insert, whoops i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 111,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulous_Bounds/pseuds/Nebulous_Bounds
Summary: One day, 18-year-old Madeline Fischer wakes up in the body of Girl-Who-Lived, Adeline Potter. Madeline is cocksure of herself with her knowledge of what's to come and marches her way through the Harry Potter story, fashioning herself as a clairvoyant. She makes friends and enemies recklessly and lives by the phrase "lone wolf"- most times to her own detriment. Madeline takes the world of Harry Potter and tries to make it her own… Until in fifth year, something goes terribly wrong.Cross-posted on ff.net
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Original Female Character(s)(but not really)
Comments: 107
Kudos: 258
Collections: SelfInserts OCs Reincarnation and Time Travel





	1. Obligatory Exposition Dump

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction and my first fanfiction to be posted online! I actually started writing this in April of 2018 and wasn't planning on posting until I had completed the fic in full. However, I've gotten distracted along the way and am now writing six fanfictions at a time (whoops ADHD) for various fandoms. As of my first posting, I'm about 70k words in and not hardly finished. So I'm posting anyway because I'm impatient! As this is my first time posting I'd appreciate tips and constructive criticism! 
> 
> Anyway, if you like self-inserts, then this is the place for you! Every time I watch a movie I always imagine what I would be doing in place of the characters. Harry Potter is a longtime favourite of mine and I just can't keep my ideas unwritten lol. Yes, I mostly wrote this to satisfy my own wants, but it'd be cool if other people liked my ideas too! 
> 
> Also, two years into working on and off this fanfiction has shown me how much my creative writing has progressed. So bear with me through the first two chapters. I know it's been said all the time, but I promise it gets better.😂

“Girl! Get up!” A shrill voice broke through the dream I was having and roused me into consciousness. I blearily blinked sleep out of my eyes and stretched out on my cot.

_ Another day. Can’t wait. _

The sound of a hand slamming against the door made me flinch. 

“Now, girl!” Petunia screamed from the other side of my cupboard door.

I thought back to how I ever got into this twisted mess. My newest theory was that I died, and this was my version of hell for not believing in God or something. Either way, I was somehow reborn… or reincarnated or something. I was not only given another chance at life, but I was also given the chance to live in one of my favourite fictional worlds, Harry Potter. One would think that this couldn’t possibly be a bad thing, right?

Wrong.

I was born into the world of Harry Potter, AS Harry Potter. Granted, as Adeline Potter, the girl version… I guess.

The name had a cruel humour to it because my real name was Madeline. Hearing the incorrect variation of my name on a daily basis had an irritating irony to it, to say the least. 

Although, my name was hardly ever used when referring to myself, because all I was ever really called by my ‘family’ was ‘freak’ or simply, ‘girl’. Living with the Dursleys was as anyone could expect: torture. On top of daily chores and hardly anything to eat, I was at their mercy in the form of a small child. 

Living with the Potters, however short my time with them was, was heaven by comparison. Lily and James were caring and gentle people. Lily, ever the doting mother, would stay by my side at all hours and poured all her love into me. In return, I never fussed (which wasn’t difficult seeing as I was a self-aware teenager trapped in an infant’s body) and tried to make her life as easy as possible when it concerned myself. James, on the other hand, was strong, his presence was like an anchor. He was a constant force of will and source of support for the family. What really endeared James to me was his personality. You see, staying in the same house 24/7 under the Fidelius charm and hiding from a crazed terrorist was quite stressful. James always brought a smile to our faces with his humour. 

Then there were the infrequent, but wholly welcome, visits from my parents’ friends: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. From the short time that I came to know them, the Marauders were similar to their portrayals in the books from my previous life, but they were… happier.

This made sense to me, even though they were in the midst of war, they hadn't gone through the traumas that they would face in the future. James and Lily hadn't yet been murdered, Peter hadn't betrayed everyone, Sirius hadn't been sent to Azkaban, and Remus hadn't lost everyone he loved. 

That was when I decided to save them by warning them about Peter’s future betrayal. Unfortunately, since I was an infant with almost no motor skills I couldn’t communicate or write any kind of message.

I was too late in saving the Potters.

I could only stay in Lily’s arms, useless, as Voldemort broke in and killed James. Lily fled to my nursery and held me tight against her in fear. I watched as she recited the lines to me that I had seen only in a theatre.  _ “Mama loves you, Dada loves you.” _ I cried in despair as she set me in my crib and turned to face Lord Voldemort. She begged for Voldemort to spare me, and to kill her instead. I watched as he laughed and killed her in a flash of electric green light. He turned to me and crooned  _ “Adeline Potter, my fated conqueror.” _

When he cast the Killing Curse on me, I felt immeasurable pain. There was so much pain that I blacked out almost immediately. To my unending anguish, I awoke on cold, stone stairs at the front of a house in the dead of night. 

That was how the Dursleys found me, alone and abandoned on their front steps.

My time with the Dursleys had bittered me, I was forced to grow and mature while stuck in a child’s body. This unpredictable situation had adverse effects on my mental and emotional growth for sure, along with being isolated with either the Potters under the Fidelius charm or the Dursleys under the stairs for those ten years. It was difficult, to say the least, to hold on to my actual mental age and to act like it when I was being treated as another age completely.

Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. I was no longer Maddie, an eighteen-year-old Canadian girl who liked science and making pop-art portraits. I wasn’t sure If I was even Madeline anymore, or if I was now Adeline. Was I Madeline, a twenty-eight-year-old who was trapped in a child’s body, or Adeline Potter, the ten-year-old Girl-Who-Lived?

One thing was for sure, after ten years to contemplate my existence and plot for my future that was yet to come, I would find some way to make the best of this new life, no matter the costs.

After nine years with the Dursleys, and multiple escape attempts, I had a plan to get to London’s hidden Wizarding World. Throughout many months of stealing coins and forgotten money, I’d accumulated enough cash to pay for a bus ride to London and presumably enough to stay a night at the Leaky Cauldron if I needed to. 

It was the 13th of June, 1990 that I finally had the chance to experience the Wizarding World for myself.

I crawled out of my cupboard and was met with Petunia’s pinched face. I stared expressionlessly at her, waiting for my next command. 

“Well get on with it,” She snapped, “Make the breakfast and be quick about it.”

I meandered through the hall and into the kitchen, where I got all the necessary items out to make breakfast and started to prepare it. Before long, the bacon was cooking and the eggs would follow after. I heard heavy steps down the hall and turned to see Vernon walk into the dining room. 

“Morning Petunia.” He greeted her, completely ignoring me. 

He sat down at the table and opened up the morning paper, which Petunia had set out for him earlier. 

“I’ll be out most of the day today for the shopping while Dudders is at school, dear.” Petunia said to Vernon.

He grunted in acknowledgement.

_ If Petunia is out all day today while Dudley is at school and Vernon is at work, then this is my chance to sneak out! _

I smiled to myself at the convenient opportunity.

However, my smile was wiped off my face as I heard the thudding of Dudley running down the stairs. I flinched as the door of the dining room was slammed against the wall in Dudley’s haste as he entered the room. He threw himself into a chair at the dinner table, panting, he looked up at his mother.

“Is breakfast ready?” He asked excitedly.

“Soon, my dear.” Petunia placated him before giving him a kiss from which he squirmed away.

I loaded three plates with food and set them in front of the Dursleys silently and went back into the kitchen. As usual, there was no acknowledgement or thanks. 

I munched on a piece of bacon as I pondered.

Sometimes I wondered that, if not for my foreknowledge and my actual age of 28, whether I would have buckled from all the stress of housework and the fear of abuse. I constantly wondered how the real Harry had gotten himself through this constant abuse throughout his entire childhood without any tangible trauma. Unless I missed something while reading the books, he seemed like a regular kid. I supposed that was due to inaccurate writing on J.K’s part.

As I waited for the Dursleys to finish their food, I cleaned the kitchen and plotted. 

While the Dursleys were out of the house, I would take the bus to London. I didn’t know where exactly the Leaky Cauldron was, but I remembered that it was on a street corner. Granted, there were thousands of street corners in London but I was sure I would find it eventually. 

I planned to wear a hat to cover up my incredibly recognizable lightning bolt scar so people wouldn’t immediately recognize me. From what I could remember, I looked quite a bit like James, I had his wild black hair and general facial structure. I didn’t think anyone would see me and immediately realize that I was Adeline Potter because I resembled my ‘father’. What I was concerned about were my eyes. Shielded by circular glasses were bright green eyes, identical to Lily’s. If anything were to give my identity away other than my scar, it was my eyes.

Fortunately, I had an ace up my sleeve: my accent. When growing up and learning to speak with the Dursleys, I kept my American-sounding accent. This obviously confused the Dursleys. Why would a girl growing up in England, with no access to the tv or radio to even  _ hear  _ an American accent, have a distinctly North American accent? In the past, I’d been asked repeatedly if I was American, to which I would reply, “No, I’m Canadian.”

In my life as Madeline Fischer, I was born and raised in Canada for 18 years until I mysteriously became Adeline Potter. I kept my Canadian accent even in Britain. Par for the course of being Canadian, I also spoke fluent French, due to my mother’s side of the family being Francophone and from Qu ébec.

Living in England, I was able to develop a convincing English accent. That way, if I wanted to avoid standing out, I would simply speak in my false English accent. I could also do a Scottish accent, but I mainly did that for laughs.

I watched from the kitchen as, one by one, the Dursleys left the house, leaving me alone. I smirked as I grabbed some food from the pantry and packed it up for later. Then I went into my cupboard and got out an old school bag of Dudley’s to put my provisions in. I grabbed an old jacket of Dudley’s that was just a bit too large for me and put it on over my baggy shirt. I slung the bag over my shoulders and put on my hat, hiding my scar. 

I left out of the back door so that Mrs. Figg, Dumbledore’s spy, wouldn’t see. Not that I hated Dumbledore, per se, I just didn’t particularly trust him. Anyone who would leave a child in this environment, not to mention sending said child into danger throughout the school year, wasn’t one that held my confidence. 

With that logic, why would I want to alert him that I somehow already knew of my magical origins and was sneaking off to Diagon Alley?

I climbed over the fence that lined the backyard and began my journey. I made my way to the street adjacent to Privet Drive and started walking along the side of the road, finally free.

I reached the bus stop and waited for the bus, I checked the wristwatch that I stole from Dudley, it was 8:00 am. Dudley wouldn’t come home until 5:00 pm from hanging out with his friends, and Vernon wouldn’t be home from work until an hour after Dudley. 

That meant that I had nine hours maximum to find Diagon Alley, explore, and get back to Privet Drive. 

The only variable was Petunia, I didn’t know how long she would take with the shopping. In the past, she’s sometimes taken only a couple of hours or the whole day to do the shopping. I checked the fridge when I was making dinner and saw that it was almost empty, I was banking on her taking most of the day to get everything. Even then, there was the risk that she would get back to 4 Privet Drive before me and tell Vernon, which would land me in a world of trouble.

I boarded the bus and paid the fare. I sat near the back, preferring to be as hidden from others as possible. The ride from Surrey to London would take a little less than an hour if traffic was good. 

I stared out the window as the bus drove on, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. I thought about my future, about what I would do when I arrived at Hogwarts. I didn’t particularly have a plan for when I got there, only to stay out of trouble the best I could. But that would be practically impossible seeing as I was the Girl-Who-Lived and Saviour of the Wizarding World. 

While my foreknowledge would definitely help me in the future, the question was: Should I act on it?

If I were to let the story run its course, many people would needlessly die when I could prevent their deaths. But if I were to try to influence future events, I might cause something to happen or worse, prevent something influential to come to pass. It was a coin toss at this point, seeing that I hadn’t made any kind of move yet. Who knows, maybe the outcome would remain the same no matter what I did. 

But I was sure of one thing, I would not let myself be pushed around, whether by Dumbledore or Voldemort himself.

I was shaken out of my musings when the bus lurched to a stop, I glanced back out the window to see that we were already in London. I got off the bus as quickly as I could to start my search for the Leaky Cauldron. 

It took about half an hour of walking through the streets of London before I caught the sign out of the corner of my eye. I smiled and fought the urge to jump for joy when I realized that I found it. I looked around for a street sign so I could find this street corner again,  _ “Charing Cross Road” _ . I rushed across the street and ran into the pub.

Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was a bit dark and dingy but felt somehow familiar. Not because I’ve seen it in the Harry Potter movies, but it felt familiar in a way that reminded me of something I’d lost… or forgotten.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts of that strange feeling and walked further into the pub. I looked around and saw that there were hardly any people, which was to be expected since it was early morning.

“‘Ello little lady.” A man’s voice to my left caused me to jump. I turned and saw that it was the barkeep who had spoken to me.

“Hullo.” I mimicked his accent.

_ Guess I’m sticking with the English accent today. _

“Now wot are you doin’ ‘ere all alone, miss?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“I… erm, I need to get to Diagon Alley, sir.” I said, not quite answering his question.

“Do you need someone to open the barrier, young miss?” He asked.

“Yes please.” I said, relieved that he didn’t notice that I hadn’t said why I was alone.

He walked around the counter and lead me to a door in the back of the pub. The door lead to a walled-off clearing with brick walls on all sides. He tapped a sequence of bricks with his wand and the bricks moved in tandem to reveal a high archway, leading to Diagon Alley.

Overcome with wonder at the sight before me, I could only mutter a quiet “Thank you” before walking into the Alley as if I were entranced. 

The whole alley was abundant with colour and the atmosphere itself was compelling. The air was thick with magic itself, I could almost feel a physical presence surrounding me. The shops on either side towered above me, displaying vibrant and eye-catching signs declaring what could be found inside. The wizards and witches themselves were just as colourful as their surroundings. I saw many sporting hundreds of different shades of colour on their robes. My eyes almost hurt at the abrupt change from the grey surroundings of muggle London to the lively atmosphere of Diagon Alley.

I immediately looked for a bookstore, knowledge is power after all and what better place was there to acquire knowledge than a bookstore?  _ Flourish and Blotts  _ caught my eye and I promptly made my way through the crowd toward the bookstore.

I went in and walked up to the front counter. “Excuse me,” I said to the woman at the counter in my fake accent, “Do you accept muggle money?”

“We do indeed, young lady.” She said with a smile.

I thanked her and walked further into the store. If they wouldn’t accept muggle currency then I’d be in a bit of a bind, seeing that I didn’t particularly want to go to Gringotts and have it exchanged for gold.

I perused the isles, investigating when a title or topic would catch my eye. I picked out three books, one about wizard culture, another about wizard history, and the third, of course, was  _ ‘Hogwarts: A History’.  _ I didn’t pick up any school-related books, I planned to save those for until after I got my letter. Eventually, I found myself in the  _ ‘Confounding Curses’  _ section, leafing through a book of mind curses.

I was reaching for another book when someone bumped into me from behind.

“Ah, dude what the hell?” I sneered at the offender.

“Well excuse you.” The boy said at the same time.

The boy wa-  _ Holy shit that’s Draco Malfoy. _

Anyway, the boy who knocked into me turned out to be Draco Malfoy. 

Although to my surprise, he didn’t look exactly like Tom Felton from the films. I only knew who he was so quickly was because Draco Malfoy has a very singular appearance, with his bright, platinum blonde hair. His hair in question was slicked back and he wore expensive-looking black robes. He was just a little taller than myself and I could see the remaining baby fat in his cheeks.

I almost smacked him, but I stopped myself.

This was the ten-year-old version of Draco Malfoy, not yet tainted by Lord Voldemort and the war, this Draco Malfoy was the naive, spoiled boy. 

As I scrutinized him, he inspected me with disdain.

“Though I suppose I can’t fault you for being so uncouth, judging by the way you’re dressed, you must be homeless.” Draco continued. “From your accent, I’m assuming you’re American?”

_ Damn, I was caught by surprise when he bumped into me and forgot to fake the accent. _

“I’m Canadian.” I corrected, ignoring the ‘homeless’ comment.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” He remarked indifferently.

I laughed sarcastically, “Wow, I guess they don’t teach you guys geography across the pond, huh?”

“Don’t presume to know my intellectual capabilities.” He snapped, stumbling over the word ‘capabilities’.

His verbal slip caused me to smile, no matter how unlikable he could be, this Draco Malfoy was still a child. Even though I hadn’t had any kids in my former life, I could feel what maternal instincts I had rise up because of that little boy before me. He was just so cute, trying to say big words to seem better than me.

“Sure kid.” I conceded. “I’ll be moving along then.”

I put the book back up on the shelf, grabbed the books I planned to buy, and walked on past him. 

“Hey,” He called after me, “I wasn’t done speaking to you!”

“Well, I was done listening.” I replied over my shoulder.

I walked back through the store to the counter and paid for my books. After paying, I put my books into my backpack and went on my merry way. 

I adjusted my hat over my head as I walked out of the store. I checked my watch, I had spent about an hour in  _ Flourish and Blotts. _ I looked around the Alley for somewhere else to explore. 

Then, I had a brilliant idea.

What if… I bought my wand now, instead of waiting another year until after I got my Hogwarts letter.

That way, I had something tangible to threaten the Dursleys with if I needed to. I patted myself on the back for the ingenious plan. I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to practise magic without getting in trouble by the Ministry, even though I wasn’t registered to be old enough for a wand. I decided that I wouldn’t try any spells at Privet Drive, on the off-chance that the Ministry would pick up my magic.

I was still going to buy that wand though.

I smiled as I walked down the Alley in search of  _ Ollivanders _ , weaving in and out of other pedestrians. I found the store and made my way over to it. The sign above the door read ‘ _ Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.’  _ I sauntered into the store, having faith in my plan.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the store. I stepped up to the desk and looked into the tall rows of wands behind it. I craned my head to try to see if Ollivander was at the back, but I couldn’t seem to spot him.

“Hello there.” A voice to my left caused me to jump.

I turned quickly and saw Ollivander walking down a set of stairs that I hadn’t previously seen.

“It’s quite late to be buying a wand,” Ollivander remarked as he made his way behind the desk, “Usually people buy their wands in August. It is currently March.”

“I need a replacement for my first wand.” I lied in my American accent. “It was stolen.”

“I don’t remember selling a wand to you, young lady.” He said, suspicious.

“I got it in America, where I’m from.” I lied again.

“You look quite young.” He pointed out. “Perhaps too young to even be buying a wand at all.”

“I may look small but I’m twelve years old.” I continued lying.

“Really?” He asked flatly.

“Look,” I said, tired with his games, “Are you going to sell me a wand or what?”

Ollivander stared at me blankly for several moments too long. It eventually got so awkward that I almost spoke up to apologize.

“Fine.” He said finally, with an expression I couldn’t place. “First I must take the necessary measurements.”

He pulled out a measuring tape. 

“And which is your wand arm?” He asked.

“No worries,” I said, “I already know what wand I need.”

He then looked amused at my statement. “Do you now?”

“Yeah, holly and a phoenix tail feather, I forget the length though.” I clarified, clapping my hands together.

Now Ollivander looked visibly shocked.

“Just trust me.” I said smugly before he could oppose me.

I watched intently as Ollivander made his way down one of the aisles and climbed up onto a ladder to get the holly and phoenix wand. If my theory was correct, seeing as I was essentially Harry Potter, his wand should choose me. The whole story revolved around Harry and Voldemort having twin wands, if the holly wand didn’t choose me, then I would be in a bit of trouble.

Ollivander walked back to the desk, holding a long box which, presumably, held my wand. He set the box down before me and opened it. He pulled the wand from the box and its coverings and offered it to me, hilt first. 

“Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.”

I hesitantly took the wand from his hand, nervous. My doubts were immediately banished when I felt a sudden warmth in my hand that made its way up my arm and soon enveloped my whole body. I raised it high and it shot off a stream of bright white sparks. I grinned at my newfound power.

I glanced back at Ollivander and did a double take at his expression as he looked at me. He looked almost spooked. 

“And how, Miss Potter, did you know that this wand was the one that would choose you?” He asked quietly.

“Well I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” I brushed off, “Now I’d like to pay and-”

_ He called me Miss Potter _

“How did you know my name?” I asked skeptically, clutching my wand tight to myself, lest he try to take it.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather, just one other-”

“To Lord Voldemort.” I interrupted him, I already knew this monologue from the book.

He flinched at the name. “Yes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The wand in question is made of yew, thirteen and a half inches. No doubt it is not mere coincidence that the wand you hold in your hand is destined for you, Miss Potter.”

I gave a half-hearted smile, which probably resembled more of a grimace.

“But what I would like to know, Miss Potter, is how exactly did you know of this wand in particular?” He asked me.

Not seeing any other way to explain, I went another lie. “I’m a secret Legilimens.”

“That’s quite impossible, Miss Potter.”

“See,” I said, pointing to him and winking, “I knew you’d say that.”

Before he could question me again, I reiterated. “I’d like to pay for my wand now, sir.”

“Of course.” He replied with narrowed eyes. “That would be seven Galleons.”

“Oh,” I realized, “I only have muggle money.”

“Fine, fine.” He turned to his register and pushed a few buttons. “34 pounds and 51 pence.”

_ Wow, wands aren’t cheap! _

I dug the cash out of my backpack and paid him for the wand. I quickly gave him my thanks and farewell and left as soon as I could with my new wand.

I found a bench along the side of a shop and sat down. I pulled my bag onto my lap and pulled out my remaining money, there was just enough for the bus fare back to Surrey. Dismayed that I wouldn’t be able to buy anything else, I decided simply to explore the streets of Diagon Alley for another couple of hours or so then go back to Privet Drive. 

I put my wand and my last bit of money back into my bag and slung it back over my shoulder, adjusting my hat as I stood up.

The rest of my excursion was relatively uneventful, I got to explore the whole of Diagon Alley and became familiar with the layout. I would have liked to see more characters from the books, but it seemed that I would only meet Draco Malfoy in advance. 

Though, to my surprise, Diagon Alley opened up to the less imaginatively named Horizont Alley. Then just to the right of Horizont Alley was a more open part called Carkitt Market. The market was quite interesting to walk through, it was entertaining to see the more and more ridiculous things wizards sold and bought, there were pickled eels, sentient beetroot, something called “bouncing broccoli”… 

I didn't go into Knockturn Alley when I passed the opening, that was a no-brainer. Even though I now had a wand, that didn't mean that I didn't yet know how to use it in combat if the need ever came up before I enrolled at Hogwarts. But the dark Alley interested me, so I resolved to make a mental note to visit it when I was more confident in my ability to protect myself.

The bus ride back to Privet Drive was equally uninteresting. I arrived at 4 Privet Drive around 1:00 pm, having spent five hours out of the house. Thankfully, the house was empty, I had returned before the Dursleys. I snuck back through the back door so as not to be seen and quickly stashed my purchases under a loose floorboard in my cupboard. 

At every free moment between chores or late at night, I would read my books in the dark of my cupboard by holding the pages up to the beams of light that shone through the slats in the door, soaking up all the information that I could. Before going to sleep, I would pull out my wand and hold it close, a reminder that I would soon be able to escape to a world of magic and mystery. A world where I would have tremendous power at my fingertips.


	2. Everybody Loves A Snake

Nothing remarkable happened a while after that, the Dursleys kept on being cruel and terrible, and I kept on doing my chores and essentially being the Dursleys’ slave. Until the day came that I had been dreading, June 23rd, Dudley’s birthday.

“Up!” Petunia’s shrill voice woke me. “Get up! Now!”

I heard the cupboard door unlock and Petunia’s hand slammed against it to get my attention.

“Make the breakfast, I want everything to be perfect on Dudley’s birthday!” She screeched through the door.

I blinked blearily and reached out for my glasses on the cramped shelf beside me and put them on, not that it made much difference in the darkness of my cupboard. I pushed open the door and crawled out of the cupboard. I took a glance out the window as I passed the living room on my way to the kitchen, it was barely light out yet. It seemed that Petunia had woken me up extra early to prepare Dudley’s birthday breakfast. 

When I came into the kitchen, I saw it. An absolute mountain of presents piled up in the dining room, behind the table and almost overflowing onto it. I sighed at the superfluity of this damn family. One child didn’t need this much pampering, nor 36 birthday presents every year. It was downright ridiculous.

“Stop gawking at Dudley’s presents and get over here!” Petunia’s voice sounded from the kitchen. 

I held back a groan as I obeyed her and began helping Petunia prepare an outrageous breakfast. It was literally comparable to a feast. There were two different kinds of bacon, two different kinds of sausage, four different styles of eggs, a whole loaf of toast, and this super unhealthy British snack that’s literally bread fried in a pan with bacon grease. Suffice to say, it made Americans look positively the pinnacle of health.

Vernon came down at some point during our own Great British Cook-Off and was sitting at the dining room table, reading the morning paper. He looked up and smiled when Dudley came in and chorused a ‘Happy Birthday’ with Petunia. Dudley, however, didn’t respond and instead made a beeline straight for his presents. I narrowed my eyes and watched him from behind the stove in irritation as Dudley counted his presents.

A swift smack to the back of my head, delivered by Petunia, brought me out of my trance. She hissed at me to serve the breakfast and went to sit down at the table. I loaded all the food onto various platters for the Dursleys and lay them out on the table. It was a touch difficult to fit all the food on the table, but I managed.

“Thirty-six.” Dudley’s upset voice sounded after I set the table. “That’s two less than last year.”

“Oh for fuck's sake.” I muttered under my breath.

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see? It’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.” Petunia placated him.

“Alright, thirty-seven then.” Dudley said, his face going red.

While this confrontation was carrying out, I was sneakily stealing food off the platters and filling a plate of my own, in case Dudley decided to flip the table in outrage.

Petunia’s thoughts seemed to be on the same track as mine because she quickly made to calm Dudley down. “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, Popkin? Is that all right?”

“So I’ll have thirty… thirty…” Dudley tried to riddle out.

“Thirty-nine, sweetums.” Petunia told him.

“Alright then.” Dudley accepted before dropping himself heavily onto a chair at the table.

I snuck my meagre plate into the kitchen and ate at the counter. I watched resentfully as the Dursleys feasted, wishing with every fibre of my being that I could unleash my anger upon them in the form of righteous magical power. I watched them until they finished, satisfied by the food that I had laboured over. Eventually, they all moved on to their respective activities. Vernon went back to his paper, Petunia went to the phone, and Dudley went to open his presents.

“Bad news Vernon,” Petunia’s voice cut through Dudley’s birthday atmosphere, “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take the girl.”

I sighed through my nose as I watched Dudley’s face pale and his mouth fell open in horror. He turned his head and stared at me as though he had just realized that I posed a threat to his entire life’s happiness. 

I could see him mouth a silent, “No!”

Every year, when the Dursleys would go out somewhere to celebrate Dudley’s birthday, they would drop me at Mrs. Figg’s house across the street. Now, I knew that this old lady was a squib and a spy for Dumbledore. Knowing this only made my resentment toward the old meddler fester and grow over time. That resentment extended to Mrs. Figg herself of course. So whenever she would try to introduce me to one of her many cats, Mr. Paws or whoever, I would only respond with an icy glare. She realized soon enough that it would do better to leave me be when I was tossed into her ‘care’.

“Now what?” Petunia continued, deaf toward my inner thoughts of loathing. Petunia glared at me as if I was the one who had broken Mrs. Figg’s leg and ruined Dudley’s birthday. I stared apathetically back at her, meeting her gaze uninterestedly. When she realized that I wouldn’t give her any meaningful reaction, she sneered and looked back to her husband for direction.

“We could phone Marge.” He suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl.” Petunia retorted scathingly.

Ah yes, Marjorie Dursley, a miserable, decrepit old hag if I ever saw one. I only had one conversation with her before she started screaming profanities at me. I remembered it fondly.

It was a warm summer day when Vernon invited his sister over for an outdoor lunch in the backyard. My physical body was only four at the time and I had not yet been given heavy chores, only the odd cleaning job. The second she saw me, Marge looked at me with contempt, for Vernon had already ranted about me over the phone to her several times before. Her two bulldogs that she had roped to her barked madly every so often. She greeted me with an upturned nose and made an offhand insult about my lightning scar. I didn’t quite remember what I had said to her, I often had blanks or fuzzy memories due to my body still being quite young, but I did remember the general tone. There were a variety of dry and sarcastic comments I dealt to her, most of them on the topic of her distasteful temperament and obvious lack of meaningful relationships. 

What I did remember, quite clearly, was the shade of bruise-purple that her face turned before she started screaming about my insolence. Even though it caused me to be locked in the cupboard for a couple of days after that, it was arguably a great day. 

Ever since then, whenever Marge would come over, I’d be locked in the cupboard for the duration of her visit.

“What about what’s-her-name, your friend… Yvonne?” Vernon continued.

_ Oh, they’re still talking. _

“On vacation in Majorca.” Snapped Petunia.

“You could just leave me here.” I said dryly.

Their heads whipped around (almost synchronized) to look at me in incredulity. 

“And come back to find the house in ruins?” Petunia snarled.

“Oh please, I can control myself.” I retorted.

“Shut it.” Vernon snapped.

I rolled my eyes in resignation, I already knew how this was going to turn out. I could only hope that I could control myself  _ enough _ to keep from vanishing the glass.

“I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” Petunia said reluctantly, “...and leave her in the car…”

“That car’s new, I’m not leaving her in it alone.” Vernon disagreed.

At the prospect of me tagging along on his birthday trip, Dudley began to wail loudly in a shrill mockery of despair. I sneered at his scrunched up face, his eyes screwed shut. One of the things that annoyed me most that Dudley would do was fake cry when he was all out of other options of easily detectable manipulation. It was so transparent to me that this little brat was only trying to get his way that I was astonished that even people as pig-headed as the Dursleys were blind to his inanity. 

“Dinky Duddydums-”

_ Oh Hell. _

“-Don’t cry, Mummy won’t let her spoil your special day!” Petunia cried as she flung her arms around her wailing son.

“I- don’t- want- her- to- come!” Dudley yowled between wet, fake sobs. “She always sp-spoils  _ everything _ !”

It was as though God himself took pity on me from the Heavens and decided to give me some reprieve of these theatrics: the doorbell rang. 

“Oh good lord!” Petunia cried frantically. “They’re here!”

Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once and ran to the door to greet his friend, Piers Polkiss. Piers was an ugly little boy with a rat-like face and a pitchy voice to match. I didn’t much care for him. Actually, I didn’t care much for any of Dudley’s friends.

When we had all walked out to the car to leave, Vernon had pushed me up against the car to threaten me, pointing his car key into my face to further emphasize his point.

“I’m warning you now, girl. Any funny business, any at all, and you won’t have any meals for a week.” 

I stared up at him impassively until he finally backed off and told me to get into the car.

Half an hour later, I was in the backseat of Vernon’s new car, squished between Piers and the window. I kept trying to inch away from him since he smelled oddly like dirt. It was at this point when I was cursing whatever superior being that had thrown me into this damn fictional book-universe. 

As the car drove on, I had to sit through Dudley’s mindless chattering to Piers, Vernon’s inane ranting about his work to Petunia, and Piers’ bloody leg touching mine the  _ whole way there. _

I contemplated opening the car door and launching myself out onto the road.

Fortunately, I lasted the rest of the car ride without having any violent outbursts. The zoo was quite crowded with people when we arrived. I had suspected so since it was a clear Saturday morning. Though I did end up getting a small cup of chocolate ice cream. After Dudley and Piers got theirs, the lady manning the ice cream stand asked me what I wanted before the Dursleys could hurry me away. I smiled cutely and asked for something small so the Dursleys wouldn’t get too mad. 

I often forgot that I had a little girl’s face and would be treated as one in public. Being mentally twenty-nine, it was sometimes difficult to remember the impossible situation that had been thrust upon me. That, and the Dursleys already treated me as an adult with all the damn responsibilities they gave me around the house.

I was quite bored throughout the morning, I had no interest in any of the attractions or activities this place could offer. I tuned out while we walked through the zoo, trailing behind the Dursleys and absentmindedly eating my ice cream. I was disappointed when I finished it. I should have taken advantage of the opportunity and ordered a larger serving, that cup of ice cream had probably been my lunch and dinner for the day, knowing the Dursleys. 

We walked until Dudley got hungry again around noon, so the Dursleys took us to the restaurant inside the zoo. It was a tacky continuation of the zoo itself, with plastic animals and decorations depicting various habitats of the animals. I had been right in my earlier assumption that my ice cream would be my last meal for the day since Vernon hadn’t even bothered to give me a menu or let me order anything at the restaurant. I simply sat quietly, watching them eat until they were satisfied, it wasn’t truly anything out of the ordinary.

After lunch, we headed to the reptile house. Dudley and Piers were eager to visit, but I was only anxious. I typically had good self-control, and I knew what was coming next so I wouldn’t be caught off-guard. I would try not to get mad enough that I would accidentally cause the glass enclosure to vanish, but I still worried that I would be forced to fulfil the pre-written story that I had read a decade earlier. If I was unable to divert from the plot written out ahead of me, then that would prove disastrous to my plans. It would mean that I essentially had no free will, to be a slave to simply watch predestined events play out with no agency to affect the outcome.

I had to change the story, to give myself hope more than anything else.

I watched as Dudley ran to the largest snake he could find, the Dursleys and Piers following his lead. Dudley pressed his face close up against the glass to look at the snake. However, the snake was asleep, having no care to entertain anyone that day. I walked quietly up behind the group and looked around Dudley to marvel at the reptile. It was the largest snake I had ever seen. Granted, I had never actually seen an exotic snake before, but still. 

In realizing that the snake was asleep and would, in fact, not do anything remotely interesting, Dudley began to grow upset. 

“Make it move!” He demanded.

Vernon rapped against the glass in an effort to get the snake’s attention. 

“Move!” He yelled at it as if it could understand him.

I scoffed quietly.

At the snake's lack of response, Dudley banged against the glass.

“MOVE!”

“He’s asleep!” I hissed at him.

Dudley whipped around and glared at me then turned back to his parents.

“He’s boring.” He announced, before walking away to the next enclosure.

I sighed as I watched the Dursleys leave and stepped up in front of the snake’s enclosure where Dudley had been standing. 

“Um,” I didn’t know how to start, “Can you understand me?”

The snake then raised his head and looked straight at me through the glass. I let out a quiet gasp at it, not believing my eyes.

_ I can speak to snakes! _

“Yessssssssss.” The snake hissed lowly.

I couldn’t tell that I had spoken another language when I talked to the snake, but I must have since it responded. But speaking to the snake in Parseltongue felt no different from speaking in English. 

Hearing the Parseltongue itself being spoken, however, was surreal. It felt as though I was hearing English from the snake, but it was somehow distorted. But it wasn’t distorted that I couldn’t hear it clearly, but as if I wasn’t hearing it through my ears, but with another sensory tool. It must have been some sort of magic because I just became more and more confused the more I tried to pinpoint how I perceived the snake’s voice.

“Wow, cool.” 

_ What does one talk to a snake about? _

“What’s your name?” I asked the snake.

“Name?” The snake rasped.

“Do snakes not have names?” I asked, worried that I had offended the first snake that I had spoken to.

“Long ago.” The snake replied.

“Do you not remember it?” I asked.

“Remember…” 

_ Is he slow? _

“I remember.” 

“You wanna tell me?” I pressed.

“Construia.” He replied.

“Pretty.” I said simply.

“Name?” He said.

I stared at him, wondering what he meant.

“Oh, my name?” I asked.

“Yessssssss.” He hissed.

“I’m Maddie.” I introduced myself, still used to using my old name. 

“Pretty.” He echoed my earlier compliment.

I smiled, this was the most civil conversation I had participated in over a decade… and it was with a bloody snake.

“DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Piers’ shrill voice cut through my pleasant conversation. 

I turned to the source of the shriek but was pushed to the ground before I could register what was going on.

“Get out of the way!” Dudley shouted at me.

He had been the one to push me over.

I felt a wave of rage flow through me at his actions, but quickly recognized what I was about to do. In my anger, I had not noticed the tingly feeling that I would later come to associate with my magic. I could feel it bursting inside of me, ready to escape in a display of accidental magic. I took a deep breath in to try to control myself. After a few more breaths, I eventually felt my magic sink back down into its previously calm state. 

Relieved, I opened my eyes, not remembering when I had closed them.

I glanced back at Dudley and Piers, who again had their faces pressed up against the glass of the enclosure, trying to get a good look at the snake.

Construia, however, was simply looking at me through the glass, in what I could only assume to be concern. I gave him a small smile to try to reassure him that I was okay. I don’t know if he understood the facial expression or not, but he tilted his head to the side before sinking back down onto his rock and going back to sleep.

“NO!” Dudley screamed in anger at the snake’s action.

He stormed out past me to the exit, his parents and Piers trailing behind. None of them waited for me of course. I jumped up from where I was still lying on the ground and looked back at Construia in regret before following the Dursleys back out of the reptile house.

I felt a bit bad to leave the snake, he was the first real friend that I had in a long time. But I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hide him if I had taken him with me. And that if I had set him free, he would have only died since he was a Brazilian Boa constrictor, far away from his natural habitat of Brazil here in England.

The ride back to Privet Drive was uneventful, as was the rest of that week.

  
  
  
  


When my letter came on a clear Saturday morning in July, I was a touch confused. It caught my eye from under the rest of the mail when I was sent to get the post by Petunia. I hadn’t expected for it to come before my birthday, July 31st, but that it would come on the day itself like it did for Harry in the movies. 

Then I realized something, I wasn’t necessarily following the movies. 

Everything had gone how I would have expected for it to go like it had before the films would take place, but then I remembered slight differences that had occurred. Piers Polkiss was not in the first movie, he only appeared in the first book. And I would bet that my visit to Diagon Alley to officially purchase my school supplies and my trip on the Hogwarts Express would more closely follow the storyline that the books laid out, rather than the films. I hadn’t paid any attention to this when Piers had actually arrived before we went to the zoo when the event occurred, more so because I was caught up in my immense annoyance at the time.

This realization perturbed me momentarily, it was a disruption in my carefully laid plans. But it was ultimately of no large consequence, after all, the story more or less played out the same in the books as it did the films. It had just been a while after I had read the books, longer than since I had seen the films.

However, when I realized what the letter was, I quickly shoved the letter under my cupboard door and wordlessly handed the rest of the mail to Vernon. I anxiously waited for everyone to finish breakfast so I could escape to my cupboard and open my Hogwarts letter.

After what seemed like eons, I crept back into my cupboard and quietly opened my letter, holding it up to the faint beams of light that shone through the slats of the cupboard door.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  _

_ Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE _ _   
_ _ (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) _ _   
  
_

_ Dear Miss. Potter, _ _   
  
_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _ _   
  
_

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  _

_ Yours sincerely, _ _   
_ _ Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress _

  
  
  
  
  
  


I read over the words. 

_ That's all? I thought there would be more to it. _

There was a second page of school supplies attached to the letter, but there was no other message. Not even some “ _ Thanks for saving the world.”  _ note at the bottom. There wasn't an acknowledgement that I even lived in a CUPBOARD under some STAIRS.

The envelope was literally written to the girl living in the cupboard under the stairs. Did no one notice? 

At that point, I was a little pissed.

My irritation was overwhelming the initial joy I had felt earlier. I breathed a deep breath in to calm myself, then I was sent into another fury when I realized that I had absolutely no way to contact Hogwarts to accept my enrolment. I would have to travel all the way to London to get to Diagon Alley and rent a bloody owl to tell this bloody school that I will attend their overblown classes when, in reality, I had no business even ATTENDING school because I was an adult who was TRAPPED IN A CHILD’S BODY.

I took another deep breath.

Going to London to rent an owl wouldn't work out anyway, I didn't have even enough money for the bus fare.

Wait.

I didn't have any money. I wouldn't be able to buy my school supplies. Well technically I  _ did  _ have money, in my Gringotts vault, but I didn't have my key to access it. Fucking Dumbledore had my key, of course he did.

I would need to contact him for the key as well.

I didn’t know how I could do any of this, I had no agency, no connections, or any real allies. It was completely ridiculous for anyone to expect any kind of action out of me currently. However, if this was some ploy, to make me feel overwhelmed, or to feel as though I would need someone’s guidance, fat chance. I knew exactly what to expect and what would be coming for me. I didn’t need any honeyed words or a false sense of security. If Dumbledore, in particular, presumed to ‘guide’ me into the direction of his choosing, he would be in a world of confusion. 

No, I would certainly not let myself be used for anyone’s gain, out of my own pride if anything. Certainly not if I, The-Girl-Who-Lived, who was apparently the one most sought after, would let someone control me. They needed  **me** , not the other way around. If they wanted me, then they would have to make the first move and send someone to get me. I would not bend over backwards and exert myself for their pleasure, it would be precisely the opposite. I would wait and give Hogwarts no reply.

Now I may seem quite prideful... because that’s exactly what I am, end of story.

I smirked to myself at my new plot and set my letter down. You see, dear reader, my whole plan for thriving in this fictional universe was to completely separate myself from it and rise above it. Now, it may seem counterproductive at first, but not becoming too attached to this place and its people would give me the freedom I needed to make any tough decisions or change the original plot in any drastic way. Completely detached, I would be able to rise above and set my own path before me. I would not bow to any prewritten storybook destiny, I would make my own. I already knew that I could divert from the original storyline from when I let the snake’s glass enclosure at the zoo remain intact, contrary to the events of the book where Harry vanished it using accidental magic.

Using my foreknowledge to my advantage, I would act accordingly to change what I would determine that needed to be changed and manipulate the outcome of this world’s future.

Now, this may seem quite a Slytherin thing to do, but throughout a solid decade of abuse, I had come to accept that aspect of myself and even nourish it. There was only so much that I could do in the ten years of waiting for this story to start. I had to do  _ something _ to keep my mind occupied, and what better than to plan for my future? So by the time that I would be accepted into Hogwarts, I had all of my next eight years carefully planned out before me.

But all I could do now was to wait patiently until someone from Hogwarts was sent for me.

I just hoped that they wouldn't pull that stunt with the constant stream of letters being sent in various imaginative ways to get my attention. I really didn't want to go through all that nonsense where Vernon tries to drive us off the end of the world to escape the letters. The Dursleys weren’t even aware that I had gone to Diagon Alley or seen my letter, I planned to keep them ignorant about my knowledge of magic until the last possible second.

Fortunately, there must have been some sort of magical sensor or something that could tell that I’d opened and read the letter because no more came. 

So I waited patiently for someone from Hogwarts to be sent, at least to inquire about my lack of response. It said to give a response precisely no later than July 31st. My birthday was coming up in a few days and, despite the fact that they would clearly send at least Hagrid, I began to worry. 

July 30th passed like a regular day, I did chores for the Dursleys and got no recognition, as usual. There was no mention of my birthday being the next day at all. Certainly, there would be no gifts for me, that was a given. But I didn't need or want anything the Dursleys could offer me, I only had one thing on my mind. 

Hagrid’s arrival.

In both the book and the movie, Hagrid came on Harry’s birthday exactly at 12:00 midnight. It would be safe to assume that that would happen much the same for me.

I stayed awake long after the sun went down, waiting for July 31st to come, and with it, Hagrid. I checked my stolen wristwatch, 11:58 pm. I didn't want to alert the Dursleys of anything magical going on right under their noses, so I planned to meet Hagrid outside. 

11:58 was good enough. I grabbed my Hogwarts letter and my wand (just in case) and slowly pushed open my cupboard door, willing the hinges not to creak too loudly. Thankfully, I had the foresight to sabotage the lock on the door, so that when the Dursleys think they're locking me in for the night, I was actually just laying in wait.

I crept down the hall to the front door and unlocked it, then slowly twisted the knob to open it. The door swung open slowly to gradually reveal first, large booted feet, then, a long, brown coat, all the way up to a giant man with a mane of hair around his head and a big, scraggly beard. 

Hagrid had a surprised smile on his face at the sight of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, reading through this chapter got me so bored! Like, damn, where's the exciting stuff? Here's the answer: chapter 6. And chapter 10 is great too! So stay tuned for that!


	3. The One Where We Go Back To Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in the title, people.

“Addie! Yeh-”

“Shh!” I shushed him with a panicked look on my face, arms thrown up reflexively.

“You’ll wake them!” I hissed. I craned my head back to look up the stairs toward the bedrooms, no one had stirred. 

“What do yeh mean?” He whispered, confused.

“Do you know nothing?” I whisper-yelled.

“Nothin’ ‘bout what?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“These muggles HATE magic, they treat me like a slave! I live in a cupboard for Christ’s sake!” I hissed, my anger from earlier reappeared.

“What?” He repeated.

“What  _ exactly  _ did you think was going on here?” I asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t-”

“Precisely! You didn’t think!” I interrupted him. 

I rubbed my temples in irritation and let out an agitated sigh. I then calmly explained to the man what exact breed of hell that I had been living in for the past decade.

“You’re sayin’ tha’ the Muggles are treatin’ yeh like a house elf?” He asked after a beat.

“Yes.” I said flatly, he had finally gotten the message.

“But Dumbledore wouldn’t ‘a let tha’ happen.” He denied.

“Well, Dumbledore was mistaken.” I replied, not wanting to get into some whole argument about Dumbledore. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“But-”

“The plan.” I reiterated. “The mission, the  _ modus operandi _ , the haps, the sitch, da bidness. Basically: why are you here and what do you plan to do?”

Hagrid sighed. “I was sent by Hogwarts ta make sure yeh could come. Yeh hadn’t replied but yeh’d opened the letter.”

“I couldn’t reply because I don’t have an owl.” I pointed out flatly.

“Oh.”

“Continue.” I prompted.

“Then I was ta bring yeh ta Diagon Alley ta get yer school things. Diagon Alley is-”

“I know what Diagon Alley is, I’ve been there before.” 

“How-”

“Not important.”

It seemed that I would just be interrupting him the whole time.

“Is that all?” I asked tiredly.

“Yeh, well an’ there’s that thing I need to get at Gringotts.” He added. “But yer not s’posed ta know ‘bout that.”

“Right, of course.” I replied, knowing exactly what it is that I’m not supposed to know about. “Well, let’s get going then?”

Hagrid gave me a funny look.

“Going?”

“Yeah,” I said waving my hands in a ‘shoo’-ing motion, “To Diagon Alley.”

“The stores won’t be open,” Hagrid laughed, “It’s the middle ‘o the night!”

“Oh.” I said, dropping my hands and feeling a little stupid. 

“We can still go teh the Leaky Cauldron though,” Hagrid said, “An’ go get yer things in the mornin’ if yer not too tired.”

“I’ll stay up however long you need me to, let’s go.” I said.

“Yer not goin’ ta tell yer family?” He asked.

“What family?” I laughed dryly. “They won’t miss me. They're just muggles anyway, let's go.”

Hagrid nodded unsurely. “Yeh got yer letter?” 

“Yup.” I held it up.

“Alrigh’ then.” He then pulled a live owl out of his coat and set it on his shoulder. The owl looked rather irritated and ruffled its feathers angrily.

I blinked in shock, certainly not expecting that.

Then Hagrid pulled out a roll of parchment and a feather quill and began to write. I leaned over to read the parchment.

_ Dear Professor Dumbledore, _

_ Gotten Addie, taking her to the Leaky Cauldron. Going to buy her things tomorrow. _

_ Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well. _

_ Hagrid _

Hagrid rolled up the note and gave it to the owl, which snatched it up and promptly flew into the sky, presumably to deliver it to the Headmaster. Hagrid waved his hand to me in the ‘come on’ gesture and walked down the Dursleys’ driveway toward the street. I followed him without so much as a glance back to the house.

“So how’d you get here?” I asked as we walked.

“Portkey.” Hagrid said. “Won’t take us back though.”

“We’re gonna walk all the way to London?” I asked incredulously.

“Nah, we’ll take the Knight Bus.”

“Cool.” I muttered distractedly as I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Figg peeking through her curtains to watch us.

“An’ Addie?” Hagrid asked me.

My brow twitched momentarily in irritation at the informal address. “Yeah?”

“Forgot to say, happy birthday.”

I blinked at his words. 

I hadn’t been wished a happy birthday since I was living with the Potters, exactly ten years ago. An odd feeling sprung up in my chest at the prospect. I swallowed roughly as I tried to stamp down the alien emotion.

“Thank you.” I said aloofly, folding my face into a blank expression in an effort to control myself.

I was surprised at myself for such an emotional reaction, I would have to get a hold of myself if I was going to act like this at Hogwarts. It would not do to be so affected at the slightest words.

We stood at the end of the driveway, I looked up at Hagrid expectantly. He pulled out a pink umbrella from his coat and raised it in the air, over the street. After a few seconds of nothing, I leaned around Hagrid to look down the street... nothing. I looked the other way and saw much of the same, simply darkened houses lit by the street lights.

Suddenly, a loud car horn sounded and Hagrid grabbed my shoulder and jerked me back. He was just in time to save me, because a triple-decker bus came barreling down the road and screeched to a halt just where I used to be, leaning out in the road and looking the other way.

I stared wide-eyed up at him in shock. “Thanks.” I gasped.

“Jus’ be careful with this lot.” He grumbled.

We boarded the bus and Hagrid paid the conductor the fee for our tickets. I cocked my head to the side in surprise when I saw that the conductor wasn’t Stan Shunpike from the third movie. I didn’t listen and let my mind wander as Hagrid spoke to the conductor and gave him our destination, the Leaky Cauldron.

After that was done with, Hagrid led me further toward the back, away from anyone who would listen. As we walked down the aisle to the back, I took the chance to survey the interior. Oddly, there weren’t any seats, but rows of beds lining the bus. Hagrid sat down on one when we were far enough away from the conductor. I sat at the one across from him and pulled up my legs to sit cross-legged.

“An’ why are yeh talkin’ like an American?” He continued our conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted.

I was caught off-guard at his immediate resumption of the conversation, but I had been expecting this question. It had occurred to me a few seconds after I had interrupted Hagrid from waking the Dursleys that I had spoken to him in my native accent. Really, what was the point of being able to fake an accent when I kept forgetting to do so?

“I watch a lot of American tv.” I replied, not bothering to tell him it’s a Canadian accent.

“Fair enough.” He simply replied.

The bus started up again and drove down the street. I looked out the window but could only see a blur as we passed buildings too quickly to see them clearly. We sat in silence until Hagrid spoke up again.

“Yeh know, yeh look mighty like yer dad even though yer a lass. But yer eyes are jus’ like yer mum’s.” He said.

“Really? I've never seen them.” I lied.

“Not even photographs?” Hagrid asked. “Surely even Muggles have those.”

“There aren’t any pictures of them at the Dursleys’.” I said. “They wanted to forget my parents completely. You know, they never told me that my parents were magic, and they told me that they died in a car crash.”

Looking down at my lap, I smirked to myself, waiting for Hagrid to explode. And explode he did.

“A CAR CRASH?” He yelled in outrage. “A CAR CRASH KILLED LILY AND JAMES POTTER? IT’S AN OUTRAGE! IT’S A SCANDAL!”

I looked up to the front of the bus to see if the conductor had been alerted by Hagrid’s bellow, but the man was only looking down at a newspaper, not giving us any mind.

He looked at me in concern.

“Do yeh really not know anythin’ abou’  _ anythin’ _ ?” He almost whispered.

“On the contrary,” I placated him, “I know everything.”

He didn’t know how accurate my statement was.

“What do yeh mean, Addie?” He asked.

“I know about Voldemort-” 

He flinched at the name.

“-and about my parents and the whole wizarding world.”

“But how do yeh know if the Dursleys didn’t tell yeh?” He asked in confusion.

_ Phase one of my plan. _

“Are you aware of the prophecy of the Chosen One who is said to defeat Voldemort?” I asked.

“Yeh shouldn’t know about that.” He said sharply.

“So you do, good.” I concluded. “But do you know the exact wording?”

Hagrid looked at me with suspicion, “No.”

“I’ll clue you in, one part of the prophecy states that I have a power that the Dark Lord knows not.” I said, not caring if he wasn’t supposed to know. 

“The power in question,” I continued, “Is knowledge.”

“What do yeh mean?” He asked quietly, spellbound by my soft words.

“I know things,” I said. “Things that I would never have known if I didn’t have this power.”

“But,” I added, “I have to guard this power, and I can’t just give it out to anyone. I have to keep it to myself.”

With the throwaway comment of ‘guarding my power’, I created the prospect that I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew. I did this so Dumbledore wouldn’t hound me about it too hard after Hagrid relayed this conversation to him.

The beginning phase of my plan was to introduce my ‘power that the Dark Lord knows not’ as a kind of foreknowledge. I did this partially so Dumbledore wouldn’t be suspicious if I accidentally referenced future events, and mostly to have fun and screw with the storyline. It wasn’t a particularly responsible or mature plan, but if I was stuck permanently in Fairyland, then I was going to have some fun with it.

“Then why are yeh tellin’  _ me _ ?” Hagrid asked.

_ Because I need you to relay it to Dumbledore. _

“Because I sense that I can trust you, Hagrid.”

“Yeh can trust Professor Dumbledore too, Addie.” He said. “Yeh should tell ‘im all this.”

“When the time comes,” I offered vaguely, “Then I will tell Dumbledore what he must know.”

_ I feel so cool, being all cryptic ‘n stuff. _

“So then yeh know all abou’ yer parents?” Hagrid asked.

I nodded.

“An’ the war?” He continued.

I nodded again.

“Dreadful, all that.” He said. “The war against You-Know-Who was a dark time.”

I listened intently and hoped he would continue, the books didn’t really elaborate on the war that Harry’s parents had fought in.

“But I shouldn’t talk abou’ such things,” Hagrid cut himself off, “War’s over an’ all, thanks to you.”

He smiled brightly at me.

“Somethin’ abou’ you stumped him that night. Guess it was yer powers after all.”

“Indeed.” I replied simply, miffed that he’d stopped talking about the war. 

“Anyway,” Hagrid changed the subject, “What I’m really here for is to go with you to get yer school supplies. Have yeh read through yer stuff?”

“No, actually.” I had only glanced at it, not paying it any mind when I was fuming about the lack of recognition or respect the letter gave me.

“Well take a look.” Hagrid prompted excitedly.

I reopened the letter that I still had in my hand, mindful not to let my wand slip out of my sleeve from where it was hidden. I began to read out the things I needed to buy at Diagon Alley.

“ _ Uniform, first-year students will require: _

_ Three sets of plain work robes (black) _

_ One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear _

_ One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) _

_ One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) _

_ Please note that all students’ clothes should carry name tags. _

_ Set Books, all students should have a copy of each of the following:  _

_ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk _

_ A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot _

_ Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling _

_ A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_ Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger _

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander _

_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Tremble _

_ Other Equipment _

_ 1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) _

_ 1 Set glass or crystal phials _

_ 1 Telescope _

_ 1 Set of brass scales _

_ 1 Wand _

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad _

_ PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS. _ ”

I ‘hm-ed’ after I read the paper.

“Yep, an’ we’re gettin’ all that in Diagon Alley.” Hagrid said happily. “But first, yeh’d best want ta get some shuteye.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Yer on a bed,” He pointed out, “Sleep in it.”

“Oh.” I had thought we would have gotten a room in the Leaky Cauldron or something.

Surprisingly, it was easy to sleep in the Knight Bus, probably due to the fact that this was the first actual bed that I had slept in for ten years. I didn’t sleep for long, however, I was too excited about visiting Diagon Alley again. When I awoke, Hagrid was still asleep in his bed and it looked like the sun had just risen. I simply sat up in the bed and let my thoughts wander as the bus drove on. At some point, Hagrid woke up and we exchanged ‘good morning’s.

Finally, the bus arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron, the trip took quite a bit longer than it looked like it did in the movie. The trip was also way more like a regular bus and not frequent breakneck stops that would send someone flying across the inside of the bus. I was a little disappointed at that.

“Come on then.” Hagrid said as he got up.

I climbed down the bed to follow after him.

The Leaky Cauldron was just how I remembered it from a couple months ago, dark, dingy-looking, and inexplicably half-filled with patrons. Was day-drinking a common practice among wizards?

Though unlike my previous visit, everyone looked over and waved at Hagrid, seeming to know him. The barman looked up from the counter and reached for an empty glass upon seeing the half-giant.

“The usual, Hagrid?” He called out from behind the bar.

“Can’t today, Tom.” Hagrid replied, clapping his great hand on my shoulder and almost making my knees buckle under the sudden weight. “On official Hogwarts business, we’re gettin’ young Adeline here her school supplies!”

At this moment, I realized that I didn’t have any kind of disguise to keep myself anonymous and Hagrid had just announced me out to the whole bar. I had forgotten about this part in the book. I looked down at myself, embarrassed of my rolled up slacks, baggy grey shirt, and a borrowed blue jacket from when Dudley was six.

“Bless my soul,” Tom said, causing me to look back up at him, “It’s Adeline Potter.”

At the utterance of my full name, the whole bar went silent, anyone who wasn’t already peering at me had turned to. Some patrons whispered my name amongst themselves in shock and reverence.

Tom the barman quickly hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward me and seized my hand, he had tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back.”

In shock at his responsive and emotional reaction to seeing me, I was struck silent. I didn’t know what I could possibly say to him.

Any response I would have given would have been cut off when, almost simultaneously, everyone’s chairs made great, scraping sounds across the floor as they all jumped up and rushed toward me. Everyone clamoured to get close, but no one touched me at all in the fuss, unless it was to carefully shake my hand. I soon found myself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

People spoke and introduced themselves to me in a flurry.

“Doris Crockford, Miss Potter, I can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Miss Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand, I’m all in a flutter!”

“Delighted, Miss Potter, just can’t tell you. Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

I shook hands with people again and again. Some even came back for a second, then a third!

Then, a pale young man made his way forward very nervously. My tentative smile from meeting all the patrons fell as I saw the turban on the man’s head and realized who he was. It was as though everything stopped, I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. I wasn’t ready yet. I had forgotten about this little meeting in the shock from greeting the crowd of eager wizards and witches. 

I was scared.

My hand dropped to my side as Quirinus Quirrell approached me. I didn’t speak or offer any invitation. Though, Hagrid did.

“Professor Quirrell!” He exclaimed. “Addie, Professor Quirrell will be one o’ yer teachers at Hogwarts.”

I still didn’t offer my hand, knowing that he wouldn’t take it anyway. I only tilted my head to the side in slight confusion as I watched him. I didn’t feel any pain in my scar like I had expected to.

“M-Miss P-P-Potter,” stammered Quirrell, “C-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you!”

“Can’t you?” I asked before I could think.

“W-well I-I am t-tr-tremendously!” He stuttered as though caught off-guard.

Of course, I couldn’t believe that. From what I remembered, Quirrell was calculating and cold, I could only assume that he knew exactly what he was doing concerning his little charade.

“That’s nice.” I replied, eyes narrowing. “You teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

_ Ah, stupid. Shouldn’t have said that. _

Quirrell smiled nervously and gave a jittery nod.

“How did yeh-” Hagrid started in confusion, “Oh, must’a been yer-”

He cut himself off rather obviously and glanced sideways at Quirrell.

My jaw clenched in irritation at Hagrid’s blunder. Well, now I had to factor in a suspicious Voldemort three years too early. I decided to mentally go over and adjust my plans later.

“Y-yes,” Quirrell laughed nervously, “N-not that you’ll n-need it, eh P-Potter?”

“I find that one can always learn more.” I countered.

“W-wise w-words, I’ve g-got to pick up a n-new book on vampires, m-myself.” Quirrel agreed. “I suppose y-you’ll be getting a-all your new school equipment?”

“I am.” 

The pub had grown rather quiet at my abrupt character change from humble and shy to blank and rudely brief. People were watching me in confusion.

I cursed at myself mentally for my totally obvious reaction to Quirrell. I didn’t know how else to get a hold of myself without completely shutting myself down emotionally. My method had worked for a decade with the Dursleys, so it had become reflexive to close myself down upon the event of any kind of threat or confrontation. 

I plastered on a small, but genuine-looking smile in an attempt to salvage the situation. 

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Professor Quirrell. I should leave to buy my things now. I look forward to attending your class.”

I didn’t wait for a reply and made my way through the bar as the crowd parted for me. I heard Hagrid laugh behind me and say “Lots ta buy, after all!” and followed after me.

I took a deep breath through my nose in frustration when I made it outside to the barrier to Diagon Alley. I was furious with myself, I had been caught off-guard. If I had ruined my plans with that little stunt, then I wouldn’t know what to do next. I needed to monitor my reactions more closely in the future so that I wouldn’t screw myself over again.

I slid my wand a few inches out of my sleeve and tapped the sequence of bricks absentmindedly with the end to open the barrier then hid it again.

I ran my hands through my hair in an effort to finally calm myself down and took a good look at the view before myself. Diagon Alley looked the same as the last time I visited a few months ago, but it still took my breath away. The only real difference was that there were much more people this time around. The packed streets were most likely due to the next school-year coming around, and everyone was buying supplies like I was.

“Yeh all right, Addie?” I didn’t hear Hagrid come up behind me.

I turned to look up at him.

“I’m fine, just forget what happened.”

Hagrid looked like he wanted to pursue the matter further, but decided to drop it for now.

“Well then, yeh’ve already opened the barrier. Welcome to Diagon Alley.” He grinned.

I couldn’t help a small smile that crept across my face, the world of magic instantly banishing my earlier tensions.

“Brilliant.” I muttered.

“Come on then.” Hagrid said as he started down to the main street.

I hurried to catch up to him and followed behind as he cleared a path through the pedestrians. I managed to get closer beside him so I could hear him speak better.

“Here’s where you’ll get yer quills and yer ink.” Hagrid pointed out one of the shops closest to us, then turned to point out another. “Over there’s where’ all yer bits and bobs for doin’ yer wizardry.” 

I wasn’t sure what exactly Hagrid meant was in that second store,  _ Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment _ , but I made a mental note to myself to check it out later.

As we continued further into the Alley, I caught snippets of different conversations.

“...Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad…”

“...Caught another werewolf terrorizing a Muggle town, had to Obliviate the lot of them…”

“...The new Nimbus 2000, the fastest one yet…”

“...Adeline Potter should be attending Hogwarts this year, shouldn’t she…”

That last comment made me cringe in irritation and turn my face away from the old gossiping witch who said it.

“Gringotts!” Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, making me jump.

“What?”

“The wizard bank, s’right up there.” He pointed to the snowy white building that towered over the rest of the shops. Gringotts was right up ahead of us.

“Right,” I remembered, “I need money.”

“Yep, an’ it’ll be there,” Hagrid agreed, “The safest place in Britain ‘cept Hogwarts o’ course. But yeh’d be a fool ter try ter steal from them Goblins.”

The ornate, bronze doors of the bank towered over us as we reached them. A goblin stood aside from the doors, presumably a doorman. He was about a foot shorter than me and grinned nastily as I made eye contact with him. 

I realized that there was an inscription on the doors as we stood before them.

  
  


_ ‘Enter, stranger, but take heed, _

_ Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_ For those who take, but do not earn, _

_ Must pay dearly in their turn, _

_ So if you seek beneath our floors,  _

_ A treasure that was never yours,  _

_ Thief, you have been warned, beware, _

_ Of finding more than treasure there.’ _

  
  


“Cheery.” I said sarcastically.

“Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it.” Said Hagrid.

The doors opened to reveal to us a vast marble hall. There were two high counters from the doors that reached all the way to the other side of the hall on either side. There were too many goblins to count that sat behind the counters, weighing coins on brass scales, writing things down on long scrolls, and inspecting precious gems through eyeglasses. 

I looked up to see a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

As we walked to the end of the hall our steps echoed off the walls and loudly throughout. Goblins on either side of us looked up from their work to watch us, or rather, me. There were varying reactions from the goblins, curious looks, sneers, and outright disgust. I wasn’t sure whether it was just me or this was their reactions to all humans.

I will confess, it was a bit intimidating. The whole situation. With a hall so vast and the feeling of its inhabitants scrutinizing me with largely negative sentiments judging by their expressions. My size only deepened the feeling of being small, something I hadn’t really felt, despite my situation.

We finally reached the main desk at the end of the hall. A grim-looking goblin sat behind it and gazed down at us severely, elevated by his high chair. 

Hagrid cleared his throat.

“Miss Adeline Potter wishes to make a withdrawal.”

At the mention of my name, the goblin looked much more interested. “Ah,” He stood up on his chair to look over the desk at me, “And does Miss Adeline Potter have her key?”

“Oh wait a minute,” Hagrid said in realization, “Got it here somewhere.”

The goblin sat back down and looked at Hagrid distastefully as he rummaged through his coat, searching for my vault key.

“Ha!” He pulled it out of one of his many pockets with a smile and held it up. “Here’s the little devil.”

Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh, an’ there’s somethin’ else as well.” 

Hagrid pulled out a small letter with the words  _ ‘Top Secret’ _ stamped on the front. 

“From Professor Dumbledore,” He elaborated, “It’s about the You-Know-What, in vault You-Know-Which.”

He handed the letter to the goblin, who read over the front.

“Very well.”

I breathed out a small scoff. Hagrid was trying to keep the Philosopher’s Stone hidden from me even after I had told him that I was literally almost omniscient.

“I will have someone take you down to both vaults.” The goblin said. 

“Griphook!”

At the goblin’s bellow, another goblin, presumably Griphook, came barreling out a door off to the side of the hall. 

Griphook led us through yet another door leading off the hall. We then found ourselves in a small, rocky cavern, strikingly different than the vast marble hall we had just left. Griphook gave a shrill whistle and a cart came down a previously unseen track toward us. He climbed into the cart and we followed, Hagrid and I squishing onto the bench across from him. 

The cart gave a lurch then hurtled down the track without giving any kind of warning. My eyes watered and stung as the cold air rushed past us. We passed multiple openings in the caverns that veered off into different tunnels. At one point, I saw fire burst out of one below us.

Suddenly, we stopped in place. Hagrid’s arm in front of me was the only thing that kept me from flying to the floor of the cart.

“Vault six-hundred-and-eighty-seven.” Griphook declared.

The goblin hopped out of the cart and walked to a vault on our right that bore the aforementioned designation number. Hagrid climbed out of the cart after him and I followed. The vault door was large and rectangular, but the corners were rounded. It looked to be made of bronze and was bumpy and was covered in various ridges. 

“Key please.” Griphook said, holding out his hand for my key.

Hagrid handed it to him.

Griphook took the key and slid a latch on the door that was disguised as another ridge on it to reveal a keyhole. He slipped the key in and there was a clang as the door unlocked then a cacophony of grinding metal sounded as the door swung slowly open.

The vault’s interior was the size of a walk-in closet with unevenly cut stone walls. But the vault itself was not what caught my eye, it was the large pile of gold that towered above me in the centre. There was much more gold in the vault than there was in Harry’s vault in the movie adaptation, oddly. 

I grinned at the sight.

“The gold ones are galleons,” Hagrid explained behind me, “Seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine bronze knuts to a sickle. It’s easy enough.”

_ For you, maybe. _

Hagrid gave me a leather pouch to put some gold into and I did so happily. As I was filling up my bag, I remembered that I wanted to ask for my key the first time I came to Diagon Alley.

“Hagrid,” I said as I stood up, “Can I have my key? Since you don’t need to hold onto it for me anymore now that I know what to do with it.”

“Er, well…” Hagrid looked apprehensive. “Professor Dumbledore’s tha one who’d given it to me for this trip, an’ he be wantin’ it back afterward.”

“But it’s mine,” I said calmly, “It should be only fair that I have it in my possession.” 

“Well-” Hagrid started.

“If I don’t have my key then I’ll have no access to my money.” I argued. “I wouldn’t be able to buy food or clothes, I’d starve during the summer.”

Granted, that was a little over-dramatic, but I wanted my key.

“Well, we can’t be havin’ yeh starve.” Hagrid said slowly.

“Exactly,” I agreed, “It’d be cruel.”

“Alright, here yeh go.” Hagrid finally gave in and handed me my key. “But take good care of it, don’t be losin’ that key.”

“I won’t, I promise.” I reassured him with an angelic smile. “Do you have any string?”

Hagrid was caught off-guard at my seemingly random question. “I uh, I think so.”

As he rummaged through his pockets for some string, I looked at Griphook, who had been waiting for us silently at the cart. He looked irritated.

“Here yeh go.” Hagrid gave me a handful of thick, tangled string.

“Thank you.” I said and walked back to the cart and sat down, with my bag of coins on my lap and went to untangle the string.

Hagrid followed after me and sat beside me. Griphook got in after us and started up the cart again, heading to vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen.

This time, we went deeper into the tunnels below Gringotts, gathering speed as we went down. The ride to vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen was shorter than the one to vault six-hundred-and-eighty-seven.

I stayed in the cart as Griphook and Hagrid got out, knowing that it would be a waste of my time, and simply continued to untangle my string. I knew already that the Philosopher’s Stone was hidden in this vault, and that Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel had agreed to hide it inside of Hogwarts as a trap for Voldemort, rather than leave it at Gringotts.

I smiled in success when I untangled a long enough piece of string for what I had wanted it for. I put the string between my teeth and bit at it until it was cut. I winced at the slight pain in my jaw afterward. I tied the string tightly to the long part of the key and tied the ends of the string together and slipped my new necklace around my neck. It would be easier to keep track of my key this way until I could find a safer place to keep it.

After the Stone was retrieved and one crazy cart ride later, Hagrid and I made our way back out to the Alley from Gringotts.

_ Time to buy my school supplies. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second update and I'm already behind schedule, so I suppose I'll post two chapters to make up for it.


	4. Adeline Deserves To Be In Slytherin (ft. Draco Malfoy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feast your eyes on the second (and more interesting) part of Addie's Diagon Alley visit.

“Might as well get yer uniform first.” Hagrid said, nodding toward one of the stores close to us,  _ Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions _ . 

“Listen, Addie-”

I grimaced at the nickname.

“-I need a little summat to pick me up, I’ll head on over to  _ Fortescue's _ an’ get you summat too.” He continued. “So yeh can jus’ head in there on yer own an’ I’ll catch up.”

So I went into the robe shop alone.

Almost immediately, a squat, smiling woman dressed completely in mauve greeted me as soon as I stepped over the threshold into the shop. I stepped back in surprise at the sudden intrusion into my personal space. 

_ This must be Madam Malkin. _

“Hogwarts, dear?” She asked.

I opened my mouth to say yes when she continued.

“Got the lot here. Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

I tried to smile at her through the irritation of being cut off.

“Yes,” I answered her first question as though she hadn’t spoken over me, “But I’d like to make a few alterations to my uniform.” 

Madam Malkin looked surprised. “We fit you for the uniforms here, deary, yours will fit just fine.”

“Not the fit.” I said, annoyed that she hadn’t let me explain myself. “I’d like trousers instead of a skirt.”

She tittered an airy laugh. “Whyever for?”

“I just prefer trousers, that’s it.” I said flatly. “What, is there a rule against girls wearing pants?”

“Well, erm, no but-”

“Good, thank you for accommodating me.” I cut her off.

She gave me an odd look and turned to lead me to the back of the store to take my measurements. I looked around the shop as she led me through. There were fabrics of all kinds lining the walls and rows of shelves down the middle of the shop. The walls themselves were a deep purple colour. As we passed the last row of fabrics, I saw who else was being fitted and sighed. 

It was Draco Malfoy. 

Draco was standing on a footstool while another witch fussed over him with a measuring tape and loose fabric. When he saw me as I came into his view and recognized me from our first meeting, he gaped in surprise. His shock only intensified when his eyes slid up to my forehead and saw my lightning bolt shaped scar. I smiled sarcastically and threw up a peace sign at his realization.

Madam Malkin led me over to the stool beside him and slipped a long robe over my head and began to pin it at the right lengths.

“You…” Draco muttered in shock. “You’re…”

“Yeah, it’s crazy.” I said flatly, already tired of this wizard celebrity nonsense.

“Adeline Potter.”

At the mere mention of my name, both witches who were fitting us looked up and zeroed in on my forehead, searching for my lightning scar. Upon realization that I was, indeed, the famous Adeline Potter, the witches stared at me in shock.

I glared at Draco out of the corner of my eye before turning to the astonished witches, struck speechless at my mere presence.

I sighed.

“Yes, I’m Adeline Potter, back from wherever I was in hiding for the past eleven years.” I said tiredly.

“Miss Potter,” Madam Malkin spoke first, “Such an honour to have the privilege to fit you for your robes.” 

She grasped my hand in hers and shook it fervently. Then the other witch came over and shook my other hand.

“Yes,” The other witch spoke as she shook my hand, “Thank you, Miss Potter.”

I smiled blandly at them.

“The honour is truly mine to be with you now, I was simply doing my civic duty.” I said dryly. “As all witches and wizards should. Now, I only ask that you treat me as just another witch, please.”

There was a chorus of ‘of course’-es and ‘yes’-es as the witches went back to fitting us, muttering excitedly to each other. I elected to ignore their whispers as I turned back to Draco.

“Good to see you again.” I said sarcastically.

Draco stared at me for what seemed like a full minute before finally responding.

“So you aren’t homeless then?”

I barked out a laugh which caused the witches fitting us to both jump.

“No, Malfoy, I’m not homeless.”

“Oi,” He said, “I didn’t tell you my name.”

_ Shit. _

“Well it wasn’t difficult to figure out,” I reasoned, “The Malfoys are one of the only wizarding families other than the Lovegoods to have blond-white hair. And I know that the only Lovegood our age is a girl, and the only Malfoy our age is a boy. Process of elimination, basically.”

“Oh.” He said dumbly and looked down at his feet, not knowing what else to do.

I didn’t want to just sit in awkward silence until my robe fitting was done. I decided to just grit my teeth and accept the fate of having to make small talk with an eleven-year-old.

“So, Hogwarts.” I started

He looked up curiously.

“What house?” I asked.

“Slytherin.” He replied, looking a little less terrified of me.

“Tell me more.” I prompted wryly.

“Well,” He said, “My whole family’s been Slytherin, so it only makes sense that I’ll be one too. Father’s made it clear that he thinks so as well.”

“You don’t think that you’d fit in any other house?” I asked, trying to get him to be more comfortable.

“Maybe Ravenclaw, father says I’m intelligent enough. But Slytherin is more fitting for me of course.”

“Of course.” I echoed.

The kid was much tamer once he knew who I was, he was actually speaking respectfully to me. I was amused.

Although, I didn’t quite remember Draco acting this way toward Harry in the books, much less the films. Maybe it was me. After all, I put out a much different atmosphere around myself than that of Harry, surely. When I was younger, boys would typically be intimidated by me by the way I acted more aggressively than other girls. 

It could just be me though...

“What about you?” 

Draco’s polite question brushed away my thoughts.

“What house do I think I’ll get into?” I asked for clarification.

He nodded.

“I’m honestly not sure.” I lied.

  
  


Since I knew the future and had a decade to make a game plan that would dictate how I would act in events to come, I had given the prospect of my Hogwarts house quite a bit of thought. After all, this was one thing that I wasn’t sure that I could manipulate according to my plans. The whole premise of the Sorting Hat was that it read your mind to determine your personality, values, and whatever other information it needed to place you in the house that fit your character. 

My Hogwarts house would have a large effect on the outcome of my ‘Grand Plan for the Future’, as I had come to call it in my head.

I could lie to others about my age, my political affiliations, my ambitions, and my plans with twisted words and a silver tongue. I could create a whole damn new personality to hide my true nature, and it seemed that I already have as Adeline Potter. But I couldn’t hide my mind within itself from a device explicitly created to read it.

The Hat would be exposed to my true and whole self, something that had grown and evolved in my time in this new universe, trapped in a body that was not mine. It was a plotting, conniving thing that had schemes on top of schemes for this world of magic. Not quite a child anymore, but had never been given the opportunity to become an adult. 

I wasn’t concerned about being exposed, exactly, but it was that the Sorting Hat would be certain about where to put me- in Slytherin. 

Being in Slytherin would destroy my plot before it had even truly begun. Slytherin had the reputation of housing evil and racist wizards, of Dark Lords who killed for sport. In Hagrid’s own words, “There wasn’t a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin.” It was inaccurate of course, but to the common British wizard, it wasn’t. I would be instantly mistrusted by the public and my peers if I were to be put in Slytherin, which would make it tremendously more difficult to garner respect and trust. I wasn’t even sure about how the Slytherins themselves would react. They surely wouldn’t just abandon years of prejudices and toxic parenting to welcome me into the serpent’s nest. Overall, Slytherin would be disastrous on all sides.

But then that prompted the question- if not Slytherin, then what house?

The easiest answer would be Gryffindor. After all, Harry Potter, my own predecessor, was fitting for Slytherin but asked the Hat to be sorted differently. With that logic, I would be able to choose Gryffindor as well and be accepted by the public essentially as Wizard Jesus. But there were two problems with that logic that my mind brought up, I am most certainly not Harry Potter, and being put in Gryffindor would have the same polarizing effect as being in Slytherin, albeit less extreme.

My first roadblock and the most concerning was that I couldn’t treat myself in this story as a stand-in for Harry. I am an entirely different person than the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry may have been fitting for Slytherin like myself, but he also fit into Gryffindor. Harry was brave, perseverant, and self-sacrificing; which fit perfectly into the Gryffindor stereotype. 

I was none of these things and had twice the Slytherin characteristics that Harry had. I was cunning, willing to betray and lie to others, had a strong sense of self-preservation, and had an ambition to derail an entire timeline to suit my own plans. If Harry was evenly split between Gryffindor and Slytherin and was able to choose his house because of that, it wouldn’t work for me.

But being sorted into Gryffindor would be detrimental anyway!

Being in Gryffindor would prompt the same reaction as being in Slytherin, just reversed. If I were placed in Gryffindor, yes, the public would see me as a brave hero at first. But anyone who was allied with Voldemort, or had any hang-ups about the side that was fighting against Voldemort (AKA the Ministry), would see that as a cementation of my joining their side. Even though the public thinks that Voldemort is dead and that there won’t be another devastating wizard war, they would still assign me to a specific affiliation in their minds. Those subconscious compartmentalizations would play into effect once the war started up again.

I wanted to be seen as a neutral party with a significant depth of magical power. 

Because, seeing as there is another upcoming war against Voldemort, I needed the flexibility to use anyone, no matter their affiliation, as an ally or a resource. Something that, if there were already final judgements on my place in the war based on my bloody Hogwarts House, I wouldn’t be able to do.

So with this logic, I needed to be neutral.

And we all know the two houses that aren’t constantly at odds with another, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. 

Obviously, I couldn’t be sorted into Hufflepuff, I would never be taken seriously and there was even less of a chance of my being placed in Hufflepuff than I had being placed in Gryffindor. Hufflepuff is practically my antithesis anyway, I am not loyal (in fact, I literally just said like four paragraphs ago that I was all too willing to betray anyone), nor am I just or an advocate for justice. So Hufflepuff is out.

That leaves Ravenclaw. I would determine that Ravenclaw is my best bet since it’s the only other house with which I share qualities with. I could confidently say that I was intelligent and witty. Also, this would prompt the public to believe that I have these qualities, but also not affiliated with either Gryffindor or Slytherin (or more accurately, the politics associated with each). I would be seen by either side as not only neutral, but possessing the intelligence to use this neutrality to my benefit. So Ravenclaw would be the most accommodating to my plans...

  
  
  


BUT ALL THIS PLOTTING JUST PROVES THAT I’M A SLYTHERIN REGARDLESS!

  
  
  


Suffice to say that I was more than a little concerned about my immediate future.

  
  


“Maybe Slytherin or Ravenclaw.” I continued.

Draco nodded in acceptance of my options.

“Ravenclaw isn’t too bad, shows that you’re intelligent.” He said. “But Slytherin is always preferable in the more refined circles.”

“Indeed.” Was my non-answer.

“I say!” Draco exclaimed suddenly. “Look at that man!”

I turned away from Draco to find out what he was pointing at. I saw Hagrid, grinning at the front window of the shop, pointing to two ice-cream cones that he was holding to show that he couldn’t come in.

“That’s Hagrid.” I said. “He’s the groundskeeper at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of him, he’s some sort of a savage, isn’t he?” Draco said. “Lives in a hut on the school grounds. I’ve heard that every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting his bed on fire.”

My derisive scoff cut him off.

“Really,” I said with a smirk, as though I was above him, “And does he take tea with Dementors on Sundays as well?”

In my experience, the only effective way to get mean people to stop being mean was to make fun of them. People only belittle others to make themselves feel above them, but if you make  **them** feel like idiots, they’ll stop because they typically aren’t used to people cutting them down.

“What?” Draco asked, confused.

“Malfoy,” I said patronizingly, “If you believe every rumour you hear and pass it around, you’ll just end up looking like some gullible kid who’ll believe anything.”

I raised my brow and tilted my head at him.

“Are you gullible?”

“No!” He said as fiercely as any preteen could.

“Then stop acting like it.” I said. “It’s unrefined.”

“And just so you know,” I added before he could speak again, “Hagrid is my custodian for today. According to  _ Dumbledore _ , I need a chaperone.”

Draco picked up on the distaste in my tone when I had said the Headmaster’s name. He was smart enough to pick up on cues and draw them out to his benefit at least.

“Father says that Dumbledore is a sentimental fool and has become witless in his old age.” 

I hummed, “I can see that.”

Draco smiled at my more or less positive reaction to his comment.

In one conversation, I had made Draco overcome his fear of me and my title, become familiar with me, believed to have an interconnection due to mutual ideals, feel put down due to a foolish action, then once again feel in agreement due to another mutual ideal. This was a manipulation technique habitually used by narcissists and psychopaths to make people want to please them. 

“I’ve finished with your measurements, Miss Potter.” Madam Malkin interrupted.

“Good, thank you.” I said.

I stepped down from the footstool and looked back at Draco, “See you at Hogwarts.”

“See you then.” Draco said.

I made my way to the front with Madam Malkin to make the final transaction for my robes. I was surprised when she gave me all three sets of robes, the required hat, and a winter cloak then and there. I had thought that I would have needed to pick them up at a later time. I thanked her and paid, then left with my new robes in a bag and met Hagrid outside the shop.

Shopping with Hagrid was pleasant enough, all I had to do was act amicable and indulge him in small talk and he happily followed behind me as I made my purchases. Over the course of the day, our arms soon became full with various packages and bags that held my supplies. I lamented that neither I nor Hagrid was able to cast some sort of shrinking spell to make it easier to hold all my things.

When we bought my trunk, I stuffed as many of my purchases in it as I could, so I could just wheel my stuff behind me. Due to all the packaging and boxes that I didn’t really want to spend the time taking off in the middle of the Alley, I still had to carry a couple things in my arms.

Finally, there was only one more thing on my list, a wand. But Hagrid didn't know that I had already gotten one month ago and that it had been safely tucked up my sleeve for the whole day. I knew that he would let me go into  _ Ollivander’s  _ alone since he wanted to surprise me with an owl, so I wasn't worried about being found out.

“All I need now is a wand.” I declared to Hagrid.

“Well, you’ll want  _ Ollivander’s _ , ain’t no place better.” Hagrid said.

He pointed at the aforementioned shop that was just down the Alley, a few shops over.

“How’s about this,” Hagrid said suddenly, stopping to turn to me, “You go into Ollivander’s and I’ll go an’ take care of summat else? I won’t be long.”

“Alright.” I agreed, knowing what the ‘something else’ was.

I headed further onward toward  _ Ollivander’s _ as Hagrid went off in another direction. However, I stopped just outside of _ Ollivander’s _ and watched as Hagrid entered the  _ Magical Menagerie _ . I didn’t need to go in since there was no point, I already had my wand.

I decided to simply sit on a nearby bench in front of the shop beside  _ Ollivander’s _ as I waited for Hagrid to finish buying my owl. It was a relief to set all my packages down and sit after walking around the Alley for the whole morning. I pulled out one of my school books to read to pass the time as I waited. The book in question was my Defense Against the Dark Arts book that was on my list. It was fairly interesting considering that it was just an introductory book, but I was always eager to learn more about the world of magic.

“Addie!” Hagrid’s voice made me jump. “Yer finished already?” 

Hagrid stood right in front of me at my bench and looked down at me with a smile.

“Yeah, I could, uh, sense which wand was mine with my powers.” I said hastily.

“Right, yer powers.” Hagrid nodded seriously.

“What’s that you have behind your back, Hagrid?” I asked with faux curiosity.

Hagrid grinned at my question and pulled a large cage out from behind his back, and within the cage was (no surprise there) a snowy owl.

“Happy birthday, Addie!” He cried.

“Thank you so much!” I said happily.

“Yeh can take this girl teh Hogwarts with yeh.” He said. “Owls are dead useful, she’ll carry yer mail an’ everything!”

“That’s brilliant, thank you.” I was happier than I thought I would have been. My first real birthday present in a decade, a beautiful owl. 

“Now let’s see yer wand!” Hagrid said.

I pulled it out of my sleeve and held it up for him to see.

“It’s holly,” I told him, “With a phoenix tail feather inside.”

“That’s a good wand, there.”

“You think?”

“O’ course!” Hagrid declared loudly. “With a witch like you usin’ it, it’ll do great magic!”

“Aw,” The compliment was unexpected, “Thank you.”

“Jus’ sayin’ what I see.” He replied. “Now let’s go get summat to eat, I’m starved.”

Hagrid led me back up the path we first came, back to the Leaky Cauldron. We took a darkened table near the wall so people wouldn’t as easily recognize me. The food was fine, I was glad to have a full meal for once. I didn’t know what to say to fill the silence though, this was the part where Harry asked Hagrid why he was a celebrity. But since I already knew, and had already told Hagrid that I knew, I couldn’t ask him about that. And I didn’t particularly want to start up more small talk. I had already made small talk with Draco in the robe shop and with Hagrid throughout the day as we shopped for my supplies. I was tired of small talk.

So I ate in silence, only speaking if Hagrid said something to me first.

I finished my food before Hagrid and brought out the book that I was reading outside  _ Ollivander’s _ as I waited for him. Suddenly, an envelope slid over the pages of my book, Hagrid had pushed it toward me. I took the envelope and looked up at him.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Yer ticket fer Hogwarts.” He said. “First o’ September, King’s Cross- it’s all on yer ticket. That’ll get yeh onto the Hogwarts Express.”

“Brilliant, thank you.” I repeated my words from earlier.

“An’ if the Dursleys give yeh any trouble abou’ it, send me a letter with yer owl. Jus’ say that it’s fer me an’ she’ll know where teh find me.” He added.

I nodded. 

Suffice to say, I was quite overwhelmed at this point. I had just travelled on a magical bus to shop for supplies to attend a wizard school with a half-giant as my chaperone. On top of that, the half-giant was the first person in a decade to treat me like an actual person and had even offered his help in case I needed it.

Although, I still had my suspicions about various people and possible hidden motivations, a trait that had been fostered during my time with cruel muggles. But I hoped, in my heart of hearts that at least Hagrid was being genuine in his acceptance of me, and not just because of who I was.

Hagrid finished his meal soon after that. We paid and left the Leaky Cauldron and boarded back onto the Knight Bus. This time, I wasn’t almost decapitated as the bus came to a screeching halt on the street before us. The ride back was no issue, however, it was quieter than the first ride and there was notably fewer passengers. I didn’t speak, for I had nothing to say and I was still processing the events of today and thinking over and making adjustments to my Grand Plan for the Future. 

Before I knew it, we had arrived at the end of the Dursleys’ driveway. I looked up in confusion as we stopped, it had taken much less time on the way back than it did on the way there. 

“Why did we get here so quick?” I muttered to Hagrid as we walked off the bus.

“Stayin’ the night on the Knight Bus is cheaper than rentin’ a room in the Leaky Cauldron.” Hagrid explained. “The proper trip from here teh London’s jus’ about 15 minutes.”

“I see.” Somehow the Knight Bus could alter its arrival times either by means of speed alterations or manipulating time itself.

I took a shaky breath in as we walked up the drive, nervous at how the Dursleys would react at my sudden disappearance and subsequent return alongside a giant sent from the very magical community that they’d tried to keep hidden from me all these years.

It was only when I reached out to ring the doorbell that I remembered all my packages that both Hagrid and I were carrying. I hoped to whatever deity out there that the Dursleys wouldn’t destroy my stuff when they saw it.

I pressed the doorbell with the side of my hand since I had one of my packages in it and didn’t particularly want to put it down.

I glanced back up at Hagrid nervously as we waited for someone to answer the door.

After a pause, I rang it again.

Finally, I heard heavy, shuffling steps come down the hall to get to the door. I held back a groan as the absolute worst option to face opened the door, Vernon.

He took one look at me, then at Hagrid, then back at me, then at all my packages, then promptly slammed the door and yelled “PETUNIA!”

I sighed heavily as I heard Petunia run down the stairs to ask Vernon what was wrong. At her concerned question, he opened the door back up and furiously pointed at me, still making eye contact with Petunia.

She gasped and her hand flew up to her chest as though worried that she would have a heart attack. Wide-eyed, she slowly turned her head to stare at Vernon in shock.

Vernon had no response for her. 

I think they were in shock or something.

“Ehem, ‘scuze me.” Hagrid finally piped up.

The Dursleys whipped around to look at him, still silent.

“Takin’ Addie back from school shoppin’,” He continued awkwardly, “An’ she’ll be attendin’ Hogwarts this comin’ September.”

That finally broke Vernon’s state of shock.

“She’ll not be going!” He whisper-yelled, looking around Hagrid to see if any of the neighbours had noticed the large, oddly dressed man at his front door.

He turned back to Hagrid, “We swore when we took her in that we’d put a stop to all that rubbish! Swore we’d stamp it out of her!”

I let out a sharp laugh at that.

The Dursleys looked at me in surprise, as if they’d forgotten I had the ability to speak.

“I already knew that I was a witch.” I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

They gaped in shock.

“W-w-well even so,” He turned back to speak to Hagrid, as if I was somehow scarier, “I will not pay to send her to some- some-  _ unnatural _ school to teach her magic tricks!”

“You don’t need to worry about pay.” I butted in again.

“But-”

“Just house me for another month then I’ll be gone.” I interrupted.

“Forever?” Petunia squeaked hopefully behind Vernon.

“I’ll be back for summers.” I said flatly. 

Petunia looked back at Vernon hopefully, he sighed and closed the door on us again.

“Good grief,” Hagrid muttered behind me, “They always like this?”

“Yup.” I replied.

We could hear agitated muttering on the other side of the door, it seemed that the Dursleys had closed it again to give themselves some sense of privacy as they argued over whether to send me to Hogwarts. 

I could hear bits of the conversation, mainly on Vernon’s side when he raised his voice, but then Petunia would shush him and they would become quieter.

This whole situation was tedious and irritating.

The door opened back up after a minute or so and the Dursleys peeked out at us. They both had a look of finality and determination on their faces, indicating that they had come to a decision that they both had agreed upon. The question was, whether Hagrid and I would agree with it.

Vernon tilted his chin and looked down his nose at me in a false sense of superiority. I stared back at him blankly, unaffected by his charade to make himself feel better. 

Vernon then addressed Hagrid after seeing that I wasn’t the least bit intimidated.

“She will be allowed to go to the school.” He said, then paused. “But she will have to leave this house immediately after she graduates.”

“That was the plan.” I said.

He nodded once. “Good.”

They then turned and walked back into the house, leaving the door open for me to let myself in.

“Brilliant.”


	5. I Believe The Children Are Our Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline meets some new (but familiar) faces!

Contrary to what one may expect, the following August was actually one of the best months at the Dursleys since I was an infant.

Since the Dursleys were now aware of my knowledge of magic, they stayed as far away from me as they could in the same house. Even Dudley was too scared to come near me, a welcome reprieve from his usual antics. I wasn’t expected to do any more chores around the house, due to one instant when Petunia scuttled over to me and tried to tell me to wash the car, I stared at her unblinking until she muttered a feeble excuse and left me be. After that, none of the Dursleys would speak to me at all. Plus, I asked to be moved to Dudley’s second bedroom and there was no resistance at all other than Dudley’s quiet whining before being violently shushed by his father.

So I kept to my room, with my new books and an owl to keep me company.

It was quite pleasant, no one bothered me for the entire month. I was free to read and reread to my heart’s content in relative peace and quiet. I even practised a couple spells since I knew that I wouldn’t get in trouble for underage magic as it would register to the Ministry as accidental magic until I attended Hogwarts. I managed to fix the bridge of my glasses in performing the ‘Oculus Reparo’ spell that was in my textbook. 

I wasn’t daring enough to try making any potions, however, even though the subject piqued my interest; I wasn’t experienced enough if something were to go wrong.

I also took my newfound free time to pack for Hogwarts. Even though it was a month away, I still wanted to get everything ready with time to spare in case of any concerns that were to come up. On a whim, I also threw in my magical culture and history books that I had bought months ago during my first trip to Diagon Alley. 

I did end up hitting a snag while packing though. 

I wasn’t particularly inclined to pack my hand-me-downs that I had worn all my second-life as Adeline Potter to bring to Hogwarts. Even though I was technically now an adult, I wasn’t above feeling self-conscious. In the end, the only clothes that I packed were my school uniform and some sleeping clothes. I simply resigned myself to wearing my uniform on weekends and holidays as well as school days. 

It wasn’t that I was vain, I was just used to being held to a higher standard of dress before I came to be Adeline Potter. In my life as Madeline Fischer, however brief it was, I frequently dressed in high-quality clothing and I could never be seen as unpresentable. My time with the Dursleys had lessened this expectation and I had fallen out of the habit of dressing nicely due to my limited resources.

But the coming school year where I would be exposed to other people and not be locked in a cupboard all day had struck a realization in me that I had to get back into my old habits. Therefore, I would not allow myself to be seen in some ratty hand-me-downs in a relatively prestigious school, nor would I let myself be judged for them. Subsequently, even carrying all my school supplies, my trunk still had quite a bit of open space left.

On another note, Hedwig was great.

In my first life, I only had a cat for a pet, so an owl was quite new to me, but I went to the public library and managed to find a couple of books about owls and such. I made sure to let Hedwig out at night and let her in whenever she popped back up at my window again. 

On the last day of August, it only just occurred to me that I would need a ride to King’s Cross.

Asking for a ride was awkward, to say the least. When I walked downstairs to the living room to talk to the Dursleys, they didn’t notice me as they were watching the television. I cleared my throat to get their attention. At the mere sign of my presence, Dudley screamed and ran out of the room. Petunia and Vernon however, were more composed in their terror as they stared at me silently.

“I need a ride to King’s Cross tomorrow.” I said to them.

Silence.

“Can you drive me?” I directed my question to Vernon.

A grunt was my only response.

I nodded awkwardly and went back upstairs to my room.

I awoke before the sun rose the next day, too excited to sleep for much longer. Anxious, I checked and rechecked my trunk in an attempt to get my mind off of my coming trip. I knew that there really wasn’t anything to be afraid of, but I couldn’t help my inherent anxiety from rising within me for absolutely no reason.

I changed into my school uniform minus the outer robe, so I didn’t look like I was wearing a bathrobe to any Muggle who would see me and I left the sweater vest off simply because I don’t like sweater vests. I would put the outer robe on when I reached Hogwarts.

It took around an hour to drive from Surrey to London. With no complications, we would arrive at King’s Cross at approximately 10:30, half an hour before the Hogwarts Express would leave at 11:00 and would give me plenty of time to actually  _ find _ the platform and get settled in on the train.

The trip was fine, mostly quiet. I gripped my ticket in my hands the whole ride, irregularly rereading it when I would get anxious. We ran into some traffic that set us back a few minutes, but according to my near-obsessive checkups on my wristwatch, it wouldn’t make me late for the train. 

By the time we reached King’s Cross station, I jumped out of the car before it could come to a full stop and ran around to the back to get my trunk. I left Vernon with a passing “Thanks!” and ran into the station to board the train. Suffice to say that I was in a bit of a rush, I was twelve minutes behind schedule after all.

I couldn’t really run while carrying a large owl cage and pulling a heavy trunk behind me, so I settled for a brisk walk. I had never been to King’s Cross before so I didn’t know how to properly navigate the damn place. I looked all around myself, systematically taking in each platform number in near military precision and efficiency. 

Once I spotted platforms nine and ten I made a beeline straight to them.

_ Platform Nine and Three Quarters. _

It didn’t take me long to find the barrier to the wizard side of the station in the form of a column of one of the arches between the platforms. I didn’t bother slowing as I marched up to the barrier, head up high and walking with determination. I took a deep breath in anticipation as I was just before the barrier and let out my breath as I stepped through.

I could immediately feel a change in the air.

The column disappeared from my vision as though it had disappeared the moment I had touched it. I wasn’t sure whether I had just been transported to another train station or somehow inside the column itself, but I didn’t quite care at the moment.

I walked further into the station and a sign caught my eye,  _ ‘Platform Nine and Three Quarters’ _ . I smiled in both relief and victory, I made it.

I looked all around the station and observed. A giant, scarlet steam engine stood next to the platform, it had the words  _ ‘Hogwarts Express’ _ emblazoned on it. The platform itself was packed with people, it seemed that no one was actually on the train and everyone was standing on the platform talking with friends, saying goodbyes to family, and just generally socializing. A large number of people also brought a large amount of noise, and you could bet that the platform was noisy. On top of the chattering crowd, a great scraping sound heavy trunks across the stone floor of the platform and hoots and screeches of owls rang out as well.

I had no need or want to socialize with anyone since I didn’t personally know anyone yet and I didn’t particularly like large crowds. I simply headed to the train itself and boarded.

Contrary to my earlier assumption that no one had yet boarded the train, the first few carriages were already full. I walked down the aisle between compartments with my trunk and owl, looking for an empty one. I eventually found one near the middle of the train after more walking than what should be strictly necessary. 

I quickly went into the compartment and shoved my trunk beneath the seat and set Hedwig on the seat beside me. I pulled out my wizarding culture book from my trunk and opened it, it was one of the books that I hadn’t read twice. I pulled up my legs to sit cross-legged, I was suddenly grateful that I had insisted on pants back at  _ Madam Malkin’s _ . I knew immediately that I would have been supremely annoyed already if I had bought my uniforms with the assigned skirts.

I let my dark hair fall down my face as I read my book, it obscured my face and as a result, covered my lightning scar. I could hear more and more students loudly pass by my compartment as the minutes passed. 

So far, everything was going according to plan. I was on my way to Hogwarts without issue and I had a clear itinerary of the major events that would come to pass and my planned resultant actions. One thing that kept popping up in my mind (rather annoyingly) was the Sorting Hat. Still, even after pouring over the nature of the thing at length, I wasn’t sure about how it bloody worked.

I had to assume that it would read my mind, that was a given. However, it couldn’t go over my entire life’s memories, right? Perhaps it would simply pass over my memories as Madeline Fischer? Okay, no, that’s getting a little too optimistic. 

Most realistically, the Hat would see all my thoughts, but keep the information to itself. There  _ had _ to be some form of Hat-to-student confidentiality. Plus, the Sorting Hat didn’t say shit about Tom Riddle to anyone, and I’d bet that his intentions were decidedly more dastardly than my own.

Though, in the end, I really had no control over how the Hat would act, I could only speculate until I had to actually try it on. The one thing I could truly control, one hundred percent of the time, was myself and my own actions. No matter how the Sorting plays out, I’ll have a plan. Additionally, if it decided to tattle, I didn’t suppose the Hat could very well protect itself from an anonymous student with the Headmaster’s office password. After all, I did know a few nasty spells from the books.

Suddenly, the door was opened by someone, minutely startling me. I didn’t look up, assuming that the person in question would see me already inside and leave. But unfortunately, they did not.

“You! Get out!”

I looked up at the mystery person in irritation at their tone and from being disturbed.

Of course, it was Draco Malfoy.

“Potter!” He shouted in surprise, obviously not expecting it to be me.

A few older students in the compartment across from us looked over curiously. One pointed at me, or rather my forehead, in excitement and grabbed some of the others and visibly pointed at me again.

At their reactions, I looked at Draco flatly.

He flushed in embarrassment at his outburst. 

It was then when I noticed the people behind Draco, two other boys who I assumed to be Crabbe and Goyle. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t look exactly like the actors in the movies. They stood towering on either side of him, reminding me of bodyguards.

Draco noticed where my eyes were wandering.

“Oh this is-”

“Crabbe and Goyle.” I cut him off.

“How’d you know?” He asked. “When we met you knew my name too!”

“I can see the future.” I said flatly before mentally cursing myself.

_ Ah, stupid! _

I had meant that comment as an offhand joke. But I belatedly realized that the “see the future” thing was actually my cover story to Hagrid, and soon after, Dumbledore. 

“That was a joke.” I said immediately after my slip.

Draco’s brows furrowed. 

“Well boys, this is Adeline Potter.” He said triumphantly before holding out an arm out as if presenting me to an audience.

After Draco introduced me, both Crabbe and Goyle’s eyes immediately flew up to my forehead to look at my scar. 

I suddenly wished that I had bangs.

“Can we sit?” Draco asked as he moved into the compartment before I could respond.

“Sure.” I muttered, not really willing to put up with any theatrics this morning.

Crabbe and Goyle sat in the seats across from me without speaking. I looked at them in confusion before following their gaze to Draco, who was standing to my left. He was looking at me expectantly, with a smile on his face. 

“Would you mind moving your owl?” He asked innocently.

There was more than enough space on the bench for two of him to sit on the other side of Hedwig and he knew it, the little rat. I stared at him with narrowed eyes as I slowly moved Hedwig’s cage to my other side.

He smiled at me again before sitting down beside me.

I went back to reading my book, hoping that he wouldn’t try to talk to me.

“So your accent.” Draco said, obviously trying to strike up a conversation.

“Yes?” I asked, not looking up from my book.

“You know, it's polite to look at the person you're speaking to.” Draco said casually.

Sighing, I closed my book and set it down between Hedwig’s cage and the wall of the compartment. I turned to look at Draco with my eyebrows raised as if asking ‘Happy now?’ 

“Thank you.” He said with a smile.

“So my accent…” I said.

I had a hunch, but I didn’t know whether I should follow it or not.

“Yes, I was wondering why you have it.” He continued. “The first time we met, you said that you were Canadian. But that can't be right since your parents are British.”

“I was raised in Canada.” I said, not knowing how else to explain my accent.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to tell him about the Dursleys.

“I see, I suppose you don't know very much about British wizarding society then.” 

_ There it is.  _

I assumed that Draco had told his father about our meeting at  _ Madam Malkin’s _ and Lucius Malfoy had given him some sort of mission to influence my opinion of the wizarding world. It seemed that I was right.

“No,” I said with a wry smirk, “I suppose I don't.”

“Would you like me to tell you some of the politics between the main wizarding families?” Draco offered innocently. “I noticed you were reading that wizard culture book, so I figured that you’d like to know more from someone actually involved in wizarding politics.”

_ I wouldn't strictly say  _ **_involved_ ** _ , but he sold it well. _

“Sure, that's very thoughtful of you.” I said dryly.

To my surprise, Draco was quite informative about the intricacies between the relationships of the various major wizarding families. He told me which families were trusted by which, which pretended to be allies, and which were enemies. Of course, because Draco is still a kid and didn't really know the value of neutral speaking yet, I got to know what he- and by extension, his father- thought about each family. It was very helpful to have an inside opinion of all this instead of reading about it.

I didn't let the conversation be one-sided either, I asked questions whenever I wanted to know the specifics of something or when Draco didn't elaborate on a topic that I was interested in. Before I knew it, the conversation had turned to wizardkind as a whole, and Draco and I were both absorbed intently in it.

“-But then why even live  _ near _ Muggles if you don't like them?” I continued.

“Where else would we go?” Draco asked incredulously.

“The moon? Another planet, even.” I said. “It wouldn't even be that hard, would it? We can just apparate across space! If Muggles can get to Mars, we sure as hell can.”

“There are Muggles on Mars?” Draco practically yelled.

“Not in 1991, but in 30 years or so.” I explained quickly before steering us back to the main topic that I was so interested in. “But terraforming another planet would be SO easy for wizards! We have magic!”

“Well, of course, practically everything is easy for us!” Draco countered, becoming as passionate as I was. “But it doesn't mean we have to do it.”

“Ohhhh.” I said sagely. “I see.”

Draco nodded, satisfied at seemingly winning our impromptu debate.

“-So it's pride.” I concluded.

“What?” Draco asked.

“You don't move because you feel that you shouldn't be the ones to.” I said.

“Well… no. I don't think you understand.” Draco said slowly.

“Maybe I don't,” I conceded, “Let's talk about something else.”

“Okay,” Draco said with a smile, “About what?”

“Malfoy…” Crabbe’s voice interrupted us.

“What, Crabbe?” Draco asked, annoyed.

“We're gettin’ close to Hogwarts, we should change into our uniforms.” He said.

“We should.” Draco echoed, disappointment crossing his face.

Crabbe and Goyle both turned to me and stared at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

“Get out.” Goyle said flatly.

I narrowed my brows at his command.

“Goyle! One doesn't treat a lady like that!” Draco interrupted.

He turned to me.

“We’ll leave and change in the bathrooms.” He said nicely.

“No it's fine, I'm already changed anyway.” I said. “I'll go out and… explore the train or something.”

“Oh… Thank you.” Draco said haltingly.

I nodded and grabbed my book from behind Hedwig’s cage. I got up and slid open the compartment door and walked down the aisle with no destination in mind.

I looked through the windows of each compartment I passed, looking for any relatively familiar faces. To my delight, I came to a compartment that had a girl with bushy hair reading a book and a meek-looking boy.

I slid their compartment door open, causing the girl to look up from her book.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you guys for a bit?” I asked.

“Not at all.” The girl said with a smile.

I smiled as I came in and sat beside her.

“What's your name? I'm-”

“Hermione Granger.” I said, cutting her off.

“How did you know that?” She asked.

“I just do.” I said with a smile.

_ Surprising people by knowing their names is getting fun. _

Then I turned to look at the boy across from us.

“And you're Neville Longbottom.”

“You know his name too!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I do.” I confirmed.

“Is that some kind of magic? I’ve done as much reading as I could about different branches of magic but I've probably missed loads and I don't think I found anyth-”

“Relax.” I cut her off.

“Sorry.” She blushed. “It's just that I'm ever so excited about learning magic. This is all new to me, you see, I'm a-”

“Muggleborn, I know.” I cut her off again.

“Are you a seer? I've read about divination but it didn't seem to be a very tangible craft and I've been a bit skeptical and I know we don't have divination until third year but-”

“I'm not a seer.” This was getting tiring now. 

“And!” I continued before she could ramble again. “There does happen to be a type of magic that lets you read someone's mind, it's called Legilimency and it's very advanced.”

She opened her mouth to speak again.

“No, I can't perform Legilimency.” I finished.

She closed her mouth.

Then opened it again.

Then closed it again.

“Then how do you know these things?” She finally asked.

“Confidential government secret, sorry.” I said.

She pouted. “Well that's not very fair, now is it?”

“No, not really.” I agreed.

“You still didn't tell us your name.” Neville said.

We both turned to him.

“That's right!” Hermione agreed.

I ran my hand through my hair, hoping to mask my nerves at the question.

“Well-”

“Holy cricket!” Hermione interrupted me, her eyes locked onto my forehead.

I quickly brushed my hair into my face at a last-ditch effort to hide my identity.

“You're Adeline Potter!”

Neville looked up at my forehead at her exclamation.

“Yeah.” I said flatly.

“But why do you sound American then?” She asked.

“Raised in Canada.” I said shortly. “I'm not too keen on this interrogation.”

“Oh! I'm so sorry!” She apologized. “I must sound so insensitive right now! Considering what… what you've been through.”

“Yeah.” Was my only response.

Hermione made a sympathetic face.

“I really am sorry.”

“It's fine.” I said. “I just don't like it when people ask questions about my private life.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She said with finality.

“What?” I asked.

“I won't ask any questions about your private life.” She clarified.

“Oh.” 

_ That was easy. _

“Thank you.” 

“Do you know about the houses? At Hogwarts?” She changed the subject to a lighter topic.

“Of course, which do you think you'll get sorted into?” I asked, carrying the conversation along.

“I've talked about it at length with my parents when we were told of the sorting ceremony, but I'm not entirely sure.” She said. “I've definitely got characteristics that define each of the four houses, but then again, who doesn't?”

She paused, looking at me expectantly.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So I've come to the conclusion that you're sorted based on the characteristics that are the most prevalent.” She finished.

_ Where does an eleven-year-old learn the word ‘prevalent’? _

“So what house then?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said, realizing that she hadn't even said, “Ravenclaw, most likely.”

“Really?” I said, surprised.

“Well, my parents say that I'm very clever, and I usually get the highest marks in my classes. So I think the house of the wise would suit me.” She explained.

“Hmm.” I had a thoughtful expression. “I'm hoping for Ravenclaw as well, actually.”

“Really?” Hermione asked excitedly. “I do hope we're in the same house!”

“Yeah,” I agreed mildly, “It'd be good to have a familiar face.” 

Suddenly the train lurched and slowed.

“We must have arrived!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

“Let's go then.” I said.

Hermione and I got up and started for the door, but Neville’s voice interrupted us.

“What about our trunks?” He asked, motioning to the trunks tucked under the benches.

“They're carried to our dorms for us.” I said impatiently. “Let's go, or we'll miss the boats.” 

I grabbed my book, not wanting to just leave it in the train compartment. I went out the door without waiting for them, but I knew that Hermione was right at my heels behind me. I walked briskly down the aisle, sidestepping the slower students in my hurry.

“What boats?” Hermione asked, right behind me as I predicted.

“The first years take boats across the lake,” I explained over my shoulder, “That lets the older students arrive before us so they can watch the sorting.”

If Hermione replied I didn't hear her over a loud bellow outside.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, this way please!” Hagrid was at the end of the stone platform, holding a large lantern in the air and waving his arm to gather the first years. Fang, his huge boarhound, was sitting beside him calmly. 

I ran over to Hagrid excitedly, ready to board the boats to Hogwarts.

“Alrigh’ there, Addie?” He said.

“Better than ever.” I replied with a smile.

“Adeline, wait!” 

I turned and saw Hermione and Neville running over to us. Hermione skidded to a stop when she reached me, panting a little, she looked up and made eye contact with Hagrid. Her eyes widened at him, I assumed because he was so large and towered over us eleven-year-olds. Behind her, Neville looked more scared than wowed as he stared up at Hagrid as well.

“Hagrid,” I said, catching their attention, “This is Hermione and Neville, I met them on the train.”

“Good ta meet yeh.” Hagrid said happily.

“You too.” Hermione replied excitedly.

“If yeh’d excuse me a moment.” Hagrid said before bellowing. 

“FIRS’ YEARS THIS WAY!” He waved his arm to the crowd of students still coming off the train.

Soon enough, a group of first years was congregated around Hagrid, keeping a cautious distance away from the monstrous-looking Fang. I wasn’t so scared of the dog at Hagrid’s side since I knew that he wouldn’t hurt anyone and was actually quite cowardly.

“C’mon, follow me, firs’ years! This way to the boats!” Hagrid called out before turning and leading us down the platform and away from the train. He led us into the trees that grew beyond the platform and to a dark path through them. 

“Yeh’ll all get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec!” Hagrid called out after a minute or so, startling Neville, who was following after Hermione and I. We followed the worn, dirt path before arriving at a set of uneven stone steps that lead to the edge of a huge, black lake. 

The students made various sounds of wonder and excitement, but I was too starstruck to move. This was Hogwarts, it was real, and it was magic. Suddenly, all my fears were momentarily forgotten, and I felt like everything would work out, that the coming future would play out according to my carefully laid plans. It was a tremendously peaceful feeling, I don’t think that I’d ever felt so  _ good _ in a long, long time.

“Careful now, watch yer step!” Hagrid’s warning pulled me back to the present.

We still needed to board the boats.

Lined up in the water at the bottom of the steps was a small fleet of wooden boats that bobbed slowly in the water. Hagrid walked down the stairs first and stepped into one of the boats, Fang following in after him. As if it sensed what it needed to do, the boat floated forwards a bit to make room for another boat to float over and take its place. 

“No more’n four to a boat!” He called out.

Now confident, some first years followed and started climbing into the boats. I walked forward and gestured for Hermione and Neville to follow. Stepping into the boat was a little tricky since it was rocking a little, but we managed to get in without any trouble. 

As soon as everyone was in a boat, Hagrid called out.

“FORWARD!”

The boats moved in tandem, all gliding forward toward the castle. Everyone was silent in awe as the castle became bigger and bigger as we came closer.

“Heads down!” Hagrid called again as we reached a stone tunnel that jutted out from the side of the castle.

The tunnel wasn’t too long, we quickly came to a stone cavern. Everyone got out of the boats and climbed onto the stone platform at the back of the cavern. There was a large, oak door in the far wall that the platform led to, I headed for it. Hermione and Neville followed me to it, and so did the rest of the kids once they saw where I was headed.

I turned back once I reached the door, looking for Hagrid. To my surprise, he was still at the edge of the stone platform near the boats.

“Go on,” He said, “Knock.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion at his wide smile as he addressed me.

I turned back to the door and knocked hesitantly. At my second knock, the large, oak door swung open and revealed a large stone staircase. Without looking back, I began my ascent up the staircase. The walk up the stairs was long and I was impatient to get to the Great Hall. As we turned to go up another flight of stairs, I saw the massive double doors of the Great Hall, and McGonagall standing at the top of the stairs.

I smiled as I reached her and stood on the step directly below her. She wore the same long, emerald green robes that her character wore in the films and a pointed hat with an ensemble of feathers decorating one side of the brim. McGonagall had a stern face, a stern face that probably put off a lot of kids, but I knew her, and I was hardly put off by McGonagall when I knew that I would face much more terrifying individuals.

“Professor McGonagall, it’s good to see you.” I greeted her, before adding a much more impish comment. “The last time we met, you and Dumbledore delivered me to the Dursleys.”

Her stern facade broke as an expression of surprise came over her face. Her eyes flicked up to my forehead and zeroed in on my lightning scar.

“Miss Potter.” She replied simply. 

She looked me up and down as though sizing me up.

“You’ve forgotten your outer robe.” She said.

I looked down to see that I was indeed missing my black outer robe. I had left it in my bag in the compartment that Draco was in that I had left to let him, Crabbe and Goyle change into their uniforms. In my haste to leave the train, I had forgotten that I left my outer robe with my luggage.

I looked back up at her. “Oh… Sorry.”

McGonagall sighed but didn’t reply as the rest of the students came to a stop on the stairs behind me, forming a small crowd below McGonagall. She appeared to consider whether to press me about my lack of an outer robe but abandoned the argument in favour of her introduction to the rest of the new students. I turned to see Hermione had caught up to me and had come to stand just beside me.

I scanned the rest of the students behind me, looking for Draco. I finally spotted him to my left, leaning against the thick, stone bannister of the stairs. He caught me staring at him out of the corner of his eye and turned. I smiled at him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She said to the audience and effectively pulling both mine and Draco’s attention back to her.

“Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. But before you can take your seats, you will be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

I could have sworn that McGonagall’s voice had gotten just a fraction bit colder at her mention of the house of the cunning.

“Now while you’re here, your House will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in the House dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

“While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will win the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours-”

“Trevor!”

McGonagall was cut off by Neville’s exclamation from behind Hermione. He launched himself forward between me and Hermione to grab a toad that was sitting beside McGonagall’s feet and scooped it up into his hands. As though he suddenly remembered where he was, Neville suddenly looked up at McGonagall, who was now scowling at him. 

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly and sunk back behind me and Hermione.

“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily.” McGonagall continued, quelling the laughter that had bubbled up from the students. “So I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you’re waiting.”

She turned and walked down one of the halls that went off to the side. I had no idea where she was going, but I didn’t particularly care at that moment. 


	6. I've Got It Sorted (trust me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline finally gets Sorted!

“Potter!”

I turned to my left, where the voice had come from. Unsurprisingly, it was Draco who had called my name and was making his way through the crowd of students toward me. At his quite loud call, everyone broke out in whispers around me, nudging each other and pointing not-so-discreetly. I sighed at the sudden attention that Draco had drawn to me.

“Malfoy!” I said, sarcastically mimicking his enthusiasm.

“I looked for you when the train arrived,” He said, stopping just before me and Hermione, “Where’d you go?”

“Went to another compartment, then got off the train when it stopped.” I said casually. “I knew we’d see each other before the Sorting.”

“Oh.” He replied, not knowing what else to say.

He then turned his attention beside me, to Hermione.

“Who’re you?” He asked brusquely. 

“This is Hermione,” I said before she could respond, “A new friend of mine.”

“What’s her last-” 

“She’s a friend of mine, Draco.” I repeated flatly, staring unblinkingly at him.

If I was able, I wanted to stop Draco’s relentless bullying of Hermione, and I was in the perfect position to do it. Lucius Malfoy had already told his son that I’m to be treated with some modicum of respect, judging by Draco’s actions on the train. So Draco would logically try his best to stay on my good side to carry out whatever plot his father had concocted. Because of my steadfast defence of Hermione, Draco shouldn’t blatantly go against me if he wanted to preserve a sense of alliance between us.

He nodded his head, subdued, but not fully satisfied with my answer.

“Alright.”

“Excited for the Sorting?” I changed the subject.

His face lit up.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Wanna know something?” I asked.

“What?” He replied curiously.

I leaned toward him conspiratorially, prompting him to lean closer as well. “You’re gonna be Sorted into Slytherin.”

He pulled back in surprise.

“How do you know?” He asked.

“Just do.” I replied simply.

Even though it might have been risky to tell that to Draco, I wanted to cheer the kid up. At the time, I would have said that he needed to subconsciously associate me with good feelings to keep him on my side, so I told him that he would be Sorted into his dream House. Plus, I didn’t think that Draco Malfoy was born a villain, he was just a misguided kid with racist parents. Maybe he just needed someone to guide him in the right direction, like a friend. Of course, mentally unstable women who accidentally picked up a habit of body-snatching may not be the best candidate… 

Oh well.

We were interrupted by the clicking of McGonagall’s heels coming down the hall toward us. We quieted as we watched her arrive. 

“We’re ready for you now.” She said with a faint smile. “Follow me.”

She then turned and walked straight for the great double doors that stood before us. At her approach, they opened for her, revealing to us the Great Hall. Luckily, I had quite a good view of the Hall upon entrance since Hermione and I had been at the very front of the crowd of students and were also at the front of the line behind Professor McGonagall as she led us to the end of the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was more marvellous than what was portrayed in the films. True to its name, the Hall was massive, with a cavernous ceiling that portrayed a cloudless and starry night sky. Below the ceiling, there were hundreds of candles floating in the air at different heights, lighting up the Hall. There were four long, wooden tables that went from one end of the Hall to the other. The tables themselves were lines with glittering golden plates and goblets, but at a closer look, all the tableware was devoid of food. Sitting at the tables and outright staring at us as we walked the length of the Great Hall, were the students of Hogwarts. 

I looked for the coloured ties and emblems that would identify which table belonged to which House. However, I could only make out the ones on either side of us, and not the two far tables. On the left, the students wore the deep blue of Ravenclaw house with the crest of an eagle emblazoned on their robes. To my right, robes coloured with emerald green adorned the Slytherin students who looked back at me, and a coiled snake decorated their crests. That meant that the tables on the far left and right were Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Look at the ceiling,” Hermione whispered beside me, “It’s bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in  _ Hogwarts, A History _ .”

I turned to Hermione and smiled in response, then turned forward to where we were headed. At the very end of the Great Hall sat another long table that was placed horizontally, letting the teachers who were sitting at it look out over the students and the rest of the hall. The teachers’ table was raised on a low platform so that it was a little higher than the four House tables. As we arrived at the end of the Hall, I noticed that the owl podium that Dumbledore made announcements at wasn’t there, but a four-legged stool with an old pointed hat put on top of it. I resolved that this must be the Sorting Hat. The Hat itself was quite dirty and frayed, with various patches sewn onto it.

Professor McGonagall stepped up onto the platform and stood beside the stool. 

“Would you wait along here, please?” She gestured to the ground just in front of the platform with a rolled piece of parchment that I hadn’t noticed her holding.

Hermione and I stopped right in front of the platform and looked up at McGonagall. Someone nudged me and I turned to see that Draco had made his way back to me. He nodded his head at the Hat with an excited look on his face. I looked back to it just in time to see a rip in the seam just above the brim open wide like a mouth, and the Hat began to sing.

_ "Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  _

_ But don't judge on what you see,  _

_ I'll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me.  _

_ You can keep your bowlers black,  _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall,  _

_ For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  _

_ And I can cap them all.  _

_ There's nothing hidden in your head  _

_ The Sorting Hat can't see,  _

_ So try me on and I will tell you  _

_ Where you ought to be.  _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor,  _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart,  _

_ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  _

_ Set Gryffindors apart;  _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff,  _

_ Where they are just and loyal,  _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  _

_ And unafraid of toil;  _

_ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  _

_ if you've a ready mind,  _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind;  _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin  _

_ You'll make your real friends,  _

_ Those cunning folk use any means  _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on!  _

_ Don't be afraid!  _

_ And don't get in a flap!  _

_ You're in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I'm a Thinking Cap!" _

The whole Hall burst into applause as the Hat bowed to each of the four tables after it finished its song, then became inanimate once again.

“I will call your name and place the Sorting Hat upon your head.” Professor McGonagall announced as she unrolled her parchment. 

“Hannah Abbott.” Was the first name to be called.

I tuned out almost immediately at that point. I wasn’t interested enough to watch the rest of my peers be sorted and I knew that I wouldn’t be called until near the end since it was alphabetical, so I let my eyes wander. The only thing that I could properly examine that wouldn’t make it too obvious happened to be the teachers’ table on the platform in front of me.

I let my eyes skim across the table as a whole before inspecting it more closely. Dumbledore, of course, was seated in the very middle of the table at the head. As though he sensed my gaze, Dumbledore’s eyes turned to me, and very discreetly, he winked, then turned back to watch the Sorting. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it had happened.

I stared at Dumbledore for a few seconds longer before moving my attention down the table. There was an empty seat beside to Dumbledore’ right, which I assumed to be McGonagall’s. On Dumbledore’s other side was a teacher that I didn’t recognize, so I moved along. Beside the other teacher was Flitwick, seated on a raised chair so that he could reach the table. Though beside him, was yet another teacher that I didn’t recognize. Annoyed, I looked over the faces of all the teachers seated at the table and found that I only actually recognized a few.

I only recognized Dumbledore, Flitwick, Trelawny, Hooch, Sprout, Pomfrey, Snape… and Quirrell.

As I drew my eyes back to the head of the table, I caught Snape watching me. I froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. Snape actually didn’t look like Alan Rickman from the films, not exactly. He sort of looked like what I imagined a younger Alan Rickman to look like. He did have the well-known large hooked nose, and a curtain of black hair fell lank on either side of his face. 

He appeared to be examining my eyes at first before his gaze jumped to my forehead, where I knew my lightning shaped scar to be. He looked back at my face only to realize that I was looking back at him, evaluating him in turn. As we made eye contact, my scar gave a short burst of stinging pain. My only reaction to it was a slight grimace, since I had felt this pain before whenever I dreamed of the night that the Dark Lord Voldemort tried to kill me. Misinterpreting my expression, Snape’s brow narrowed and he scowled at me before looking away.

I knew that Snape could only read my mind with Legilimency when actually saying the spell and pointing his wand at me, so I ruled that out. Even if it was otherwise, it would make less than no sense if Snape were to read a first year’s mind, no matter if the first year was the Girl-Who-Lived. In addition, the only person who I knew to be able to cause pain specifically in my scar was Lord Voldemort, whom I knew to be currently in my vicinity. 

Of course, this stream of reasoning only transpired in the span of a few seconds.

On reflex, I looked to the man that I had concluded to be the cause of my pain, Quirrell. Well, if we were to be more precise, I looked to the man whom I knew to be harbouring the man that I had concluded to be the cause of my pain on the back of his head, Quirrell.

Quirrell appeared to be watching the Sorting with an intense interest.

_ Almost too intense to be genuine. _

I stared at him a bit longer, it seemed that he wouldn’t bring his gaze away from the Sorting, as if he was refusing to look at me. I narrowed my eyes at him in annoyance.

“Adeline Potter.” 

At the announcement of my name by Professor McGonagall, the entire Hall burst into whispers around me. My hands tightened around the book that I still held, I hadn't thought about what I would do with it during the Sorting when I had brought it from the train compartment. I pursed my lips in irritation at the reaction to my name and climbed the steps. Upon catching McGonagall’s eye, I quirked my eyebrow at her with a deadpan expression. I turned and sat on the stool and faced the Hall. 

At this, they fell silent, examining, waiting, judging.

McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto my head. Almost immediately, I felt a presence in my mind. Invasive wasn't quite the word I would use, but it felt as though someone was staring at me but I couldn't see them. Then, a voice sounded in my head.

_ “Difficult… Very difficult.” _

_ “Hardly,” _ I bluffed mentally,  _ “Just put me in Ravenclaw.” _

_ “Oh-ho-ho, Miss Potter,” _ The Hat laughed,  _ “I dare say that there may be another House that would suit you better than Ravenclaw, I can see in your mind that you’ve come to the same conclusion.” _

_ “That doesn’t matter, I’m allowed to choose. I choose Ravenclaw.”  _ I insisted.

_ “Hmmmm,” _ The Hat mused,  _ “Where did you hear that? I wonder.” _

I felt something shift through my mind. It felt as though water was being poured into my head, slipping through any cracks and flooding my mind.

_ “You are hiding something from me, Miss Potter.”  _ The Hat said after a moment. 

_ Hiding something? _

That phrase struck a chord within me. Since putting on the hat, the fact that it hadn’t immediately found my true identity had been a question sitting in the back of my mind. However, going off of that comment just now, it seemed that my identity and past life were inaccessible to it, somehow.

_ “Doesn’t matter,” _ I brushed off, desperately hoping that the Hat would drop the subject, _ “Put me in Ravenclaw, you have to take my decision into account.” _

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure that the Sorting Hat  **had** to take my decision into account. I was only going off of Harry’s words to his son in the ‘17 years later’ epilogue as well as Harry’s own experience during his Sorting.

_ “Very well.” _

The Hat sighed in my head.

“RAVENCLAW!”

I minutely breathed a sigh of relief at the Sorting Hat’s surrender and turned my attention to the cheering table adorned in blue. The volume of their hollering and cheering had been louder than any other newly Sorted Ravenclaw yet. Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat off of my head and gestured for me to go join my new housemates at the Ravenclaw table. As I walked toward the table, a girl on one of the ends waved at me, motioning for me to take the seat beside her. Not seeing any harm in sitting beside the girl, I took the place on the bench at her side.

As I made to sit, I remembered that Hermione must have already been Sorted, since her last name was before mine in the alphabet. I turned and looked toward the Gryffindor table, searching for her. Over a sea of students staring at me, across the Hall, and beyond the Slytherin table, I caught Hermione’s eye. She looked marginally disappointed, either due to me being Sorted into a different House than her or that I was Sorted into the House she’d been hoping for. But she also looked happy, maybe in congratulation, but I wasn’t sure.

My gaze focused on someone closer to me, who was waving. Seated at the Slytherin table, Draco was trying not-so-discreetly to get my attention. I raised a brow questioningly, silently asking what he wanted. He gave me a small smile and a thumbs up before turning back to the front, where the Sorting was about to continue.

It was then when I realized that the Hall was clapping for me for much longer than they had clapped for any of the other new students. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but it wasn't a particularly good feeling.

I copied Draco and turned to the front as well.

There were only three more students standing before the platform to be Sorted. One of them whom I noticed to be Ron Weasley. I hadn’t personally met Ron yet, obviously due to my actions on the Hogwarts Express. I also hadn’t been with him during the confrontation with Malfoy before the Sorting. I wondered absently how he would react to me, seeing as Harry Potter was now a girl, and one who knew the future. 

My plans for Ron weren’t as fleshed out as my plans for Hermione. I knew he would prove useful in his strategic mind and bravery, but I figured I could make up for that with my own cunning. I mean, come on, it’s not like some eleven-year-old was smarter than me. If the kid ended up naturally becoming friends with Hermione, then I guess I wouldn’t begrudge him. However, I certainly wasn’t going to seek Ron out like I did Hermione, I was already expending effort in manipulating the girl, I didn’t want yet another preteen to deal with on the daily. 

Lisa Turpin was called next and promptly Sorted into Ravenclaw. Unsurprisingly, Lisa went to sit at the empty place beside me. Then it was Ron’s turn. He nervously walked up the stairs to the stool and McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on his head. Almost immediately, the Hat cried out: GRYFFINDOR! 

Blaise Zabini was the last student, the Hat paused a few seconds in deliberation before finally Sorting Zabini into Slytherin. The boy himself looked unsurprised and went over to the Slytherin table to sit beside Draco.

Now that all the first-year students had been Sorted, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the Sorting Hat away. Whispers and quiet conversation broke out throughout the hall in the lull of activity. I heard my name spoken quite a few times, but no one had actually tried to talk to me yet.

At once, the school’s attention was recaptured as Headmaster Dumbledore stood and made his way to the front of the large platform. When he got there, the podium that I had been looking for earlier appeared. The podium looked the same as it did in the films, adorned with candles on the sides and a golden owl at the front, wings opened wide as though in flight. Dumbledore opened his arms wide in welcome with a beaming smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Welcome!” Dumbledore announced. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

Everyone laughed and cheered as Dumbledore made his way back to the Head Table. I joined in with the applause thundering through the hall, smiling.

“Is he a bit mad?” The girl who had beckoned me to sit beside her asked.

I turned and replied with a wry smirk.

“Of course not.”

She still looked confused as an older student down the table added. “Dumbledore’s a genius!”

We turned to face him as he continued. “He’s the best wizard in the world, he defeated the dark lord Grindelwald you know.”

“Then he and I have that in common.” I said casually.

“Indeed,” Chimed in the girl sitting beside the boy, “Adeline Potter, The-Girl-Who-Lived. I’m Penelope Clearwater, this is Marcus Fenwick.”

“Pleasure to meet you two.” I said.

“You as well.” Penelope replied.

“So, Potter!” One of the first-year boys practically yelled at me from across the table. “Can we see the scar?”

I stared at him then said incredulously, “No.”

I turned to the rest of the students in the vicinity, they were all staring at me. 

“And if anyone else has any demands to make of me, they can keep them to themselves.” I said with finality.

Satisfied with the subsequent silence, I began to take food from the table and fill my plate. Slowly, as I was seemingly preoccupied, conversation around me began to pick up. When I had finished getting my food, I turned to the girl beside me.

“So what’s your name?” I asked.

She smiled hesitantly, probably put off by my earlier command. “I’m Mandy Brocklehurst.”

“Adeline Potter, pleasure to meet you.” I replied mildly.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” She started, looking for any negative reaction from me.

Seeing only my vaguely interested expression, she continued.

“...Why do you speak with an American accent?” She asked finally.

Inhaling with some annoyance at the realization that I would be answering this question quite frequently, I replied.

“I don’t mind the question. My accent is actually Canadian, and I have it because I live in Canada.”

Living in Canada was an easier explanation than telling them I had the accent because I  _ used _ to live in Canada during a past life where this entire universe was a fictional book series that I loved. Even if anyone asked me any details about Canada, I could reply honestly since I’d actually lived there for fifteen years. 

“Why do you live in Canada?” The girl on my other side interrupted.

I turned to her. My expression must have betrayed my annoyance because she shrunk back.

“Nice starter, how about giving me your name first?” I said dryly.

“I’m Su Li.” She said, chastised.

“And I’m Lisa Turpin.” Added the girl beside her.

“Hi.” I said flatly.

“So… Why do you live in Canada?” Mandy asked quietly.

“To hide me from any remaining followers of Voldemort.” I lied.

As I said his name, I realized that it was a mistake. At the very utterance of the name  _ Voldemort _ , everyone gasped.

“Oh come on, you guys can’t be serious.” I said to the rest of the table.

“You said the name!” A boy hissed at me from across the table.

“So?” I asked.

“You’re not supposed to!” Said another boy beside the first.

“Why not? Staying in fear of the name of a dead man only gives power to his memory.” I said.

“Things may be different in  _ Canada _ ,” Su Li said sternly, “But here we don’t say the name… Ever.”

“Fine.” I said. 

Privately, I called them all pussies.

My introduction to my fellow students was decidedly not going as planned. I had meant to appear interesting but mysterious to the kids and keep the atmosphere of any conversation calm. Due to my annoyance at their near obsession with my fame and inability to simply adhere to standard conversational manners, I had initially become stern and had put them off. And as though destiny itself wanted me to screw up even more, I remained stern during the conversation with the girls. Then, to top it all, I dared to say Lord Voldemort’s name. I just hoped that I could salvage any reputation of mine. 

I abandoned conversation and resolved to make up for my poor act at a later date and began to eat in silence.

I finished eating before everyone else, used to smaller portions of food after all. I occupied myself with staring at the Head table again. The teachers were all eating and chatting with each other, not much of anything interesting was happening from what I could see. Though some time after, the plates and desserts began disappearing as more and more students finished their food. Dumbledore got to his feet and stood again at the podium when everything had vanished off of the long tables. The Hall became silent immediately, waiting attentively for the Headmaster to speak.

“Just a few more words now that we’ve all been fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce.

“First years, please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr Filch has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

I bit back a snicker at the way he just dropped that bomb on a hall full of children and teens. Some students actually laughed out loud, but their laughs echoed through the otherwise silent hall and died into the air. Then, whispering broke out when the rest of the students realized that Dumbledore wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Is he serious?” Asked one of the boys, Kevin, I’d learned while listening to conversation as I was eating.

“Must be,” Marcus said, “But I don’t know why he phrased it like that. Usually, he gives a reason why we aren’t allowed somewhere.”

“And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” Dumbledore announced as soon as the whispering died down.

“Ravenclaws!” A boy stood up further down the table yelled. “First year Ravenclaws, follow me!”

I heard echoes around the Hall as the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin Prefects all started corralling their respective first-years. It seemed that the older students were all waiting for the Prefects to lead the first-years out of the Great Hall before they made to leave, because they were all still seated and looking at the various groups of eleven-year-olds that were forming around the hollering Prefects.

I stood and walked around to join the group of Ravenclaws in the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables.

“We all here?” The Prefect asked absentmindedly as he craned his neck to look for any remaining first-years, as though he wasn’t actually asking us.

“Follow me, then.” He said, then turned to walk out of the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor first-years were leaving the Hall as we were, their students interminding with ours as both houses went through the massive doors at the same time. I searched through the sea of cloaks adorned with red for Hermione.

“Adeline!” 

I turned in time to see Hermione push her way through to walk beside me in the crowd.

“Hermione.” I replied in greeting.

“You got into Ravenclaw!” She said.

“You got into Gryffindor.” I mimicked her.

“Yeah, but I really thought that I’d be sorted into Ravenclaw as well.” She said a bit sadly.

“Well actually, I see you more as a Gryffindor.” I said.

“Really?” She asked.

“Yeah, I thought so on the train too but I didn’t want to offend you or anything.” I said.

Hermione laughed. “That wouldn’t have offended me.”

“Well whatever,” I brushed off the subject, “You got into Gryffindor in the end. Congratulations.”

She beamed. “Thank you. I’m just disappointed that we aren’t in the same house.”

“Yeah, that sucks.” I agreed, pleased that she wanted to be close with me. “We can still be friends in different houses though, right?”

“Of course!” She agreed.

“Ravenclaws!” The Prefect yelled to get our attention. “This way!” 

He was leading us down the opposite corridor that the Gryffindors seemed to be headed.

“Looks like we’re splitting up.” I remarked. “See you later.” 

Suddenly, Hermione threw her arms around me and gave me a tight hug.

“See you later, Adeline.” She said.

The Prefect lead us down another series of corridors before climbing several flights of stairs. The stairs were built oddly in that flights of stairs were connected from one wall to another in the interior of one big tower that you could look straight up and almost see the top through the web of staircases. Although, what really looked impressive was that, every so often, the staircases moved to connect to another wall in the tower. 

“Careful, everyone.” The Prefect announced. “Stay together, we don’t want to be separated when the staircases change.”

The staircase event was interesting, to say the least. At the Prefect’s warning, half of the first-years frantically ran behind him as he ascended one of the staircases and piled onto the stairs. Their rushing caused some to trip on the stairs and fall. In no time, the students who had run up the stairs were all splayed out on them. The other half of the students, including me, helped them up and we all walked up the stairs to join the Prefect at the top.

He led us down another corridor and to a large, wooden door that had a bronze, eagle-shaped door knocker that hung in the middle.

“This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.” The Prefect said to the group. “It will ask you a riddle like so…”

He gestured to the knocker and, at once, it came alive and spoke.

  
  


“ _ I disappear as soon as you say my name. What am I? _ ”

  
  


Some students looked around in confusion. There were mutterings between small groups as people were trying to figure out the answer among themselves.

“A shy person?” Lisa Turpin asked hesitantly.

The knocker didn’t respond.

“Wrong.” The Prefect said, a little smug. “Does anyone else want a go?”

Students silently looked around again, looking for anyone to volunteer. 

“I’ll try.” I said.

At my announcement, everyone turned to me, eager to see if the famous Girl-Who-Lived would be able to solve the riddle. I walked through the group to stand in front of the door, facing the knocker.

“Adeline Potter.” The Prefect said, not as a greeting, but an observation.

My gaze flitted from the door to him, then back to the door.

“Silence.” I said clearly.

Thinking that I was speaking to them, the whispering first-years behind me became silent immediately. Funnily enough, they had become quiet at the perfect moment when the door swung slowly open.

“Good job, Potter.” The Prefect said.

Not waiting for an invitation, I walked into the common room.

I was taken by surprise at how nice it was. In the movies, the audience was only shown the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms. The Gryffindor common room was fine, I supposed, but I thought that it seemed a little crowded and loud. The Slytherin common room was quite large, but it was described as cold, dark, and foreboding, which wasn’t the kind of atmosphere that I would want to live in for the next seven years.

But the Ravenclaw common room was brilliant. The room that we walked into was large and airy, with arched windows lining the walls that showed a lovely view of the school grounds. The room itself was circular with a high, domed ceiling. Deep blue and bronze silks hung from the ceiling and were pinned at the stone walls to create an atmosphere of regality. There was a plush, midnight blue carpet that lined the whole common room that, somehow, was reflected above in the domed ceiling. The furniture was all made of dark brown wood, furnished with blue cushioning that matched the silks. At the far end of the room, beside another wooden door, stood a great, marble statue. I assumed that this was a rendition of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. 

“You will see that this is the main common room, we also have our own private library through that door, to the left.” The Prefect announced as the rest of the students filed in.

I hadn’t noticed the second wooden door, but now knowing that it was a private library I was excited to see what books it held.

There were several exclamations of amazement and wonder as the first-years walked further into the common room and began to explore it more closely. 

Now that the group of kids was all spread out in the large common room, I realized how small of a group we actually were. I had assumed that we would be greater in number, seeing in the films there had been so many students. I stood at one of the walls and counted the first-years who were still exploring the room.

1… 2… 3… 4…

By my count, there were five boys, two of whom I already knew by name: Kevin Entwhistle and Terry Boot. There were also six girls including me, though I only knew Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, and Lisa Turpin. I figured that another girl was one of the Patil twins, but I didn’t remember which was in Gryffindor and which was in Ravenclaw. In total, there were eleven of us.

I was stopped from making any more observations when the Prefect cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. I turned at the sound, the Prefect was now standing at the end of the room about a metre in front of the Ravenclaw statue. When he had everyone’s attention, the Prefect promptly launched into what sounded like a very scripted and rehearsed welcome speech.

“Congratulations! I’m Prefect Robert Hilliard, and I’m delighted to welcome you to Ravenclaw house. Our emblem is the eagle, which soars where others cannot climb; our house colours are blue and bronze, and our common room is found at the top of Ravenclaw Tower, behind a door with an enchanted knocker. The arched windows set into the walls of our circular common room look down at the school grounds: the lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology gardens. No other house in the school has such stunning views…”

I rolled my eyes as I tuned the excited teen out, then stared out of a nearby window as he continued.

“...I think that’s nearly everything. Oh yes, our house ghost is the Grey Lady. The rest of the school thinks she never speaks, but she’ll talk to Ravenclaws. She’s particularly useful if you’re lost, or you’ve mislaid something.

I’m sure you’ll have a good night. Our dormitories are in turrets off the main tower; our four-poster beds are covered in sky blue silk eiderdowns and the sound of the wind whistling around the windows is very relaxing.

And once again: well done on becoming a member of the cleverest, quirkiest and most interesting house at Hogwarts.”

By the time Robert Hilliard had finished speaking, it looked as though half the first-years had fallen asleep standing up during his lengthy welcome speech. At the end of his speech, some students drew their attention back to him, curious as to what he would do next.

“Any questions?” Robert asked.

Lisa Turpin raised her hand.

“Yes?” Robert prompted.

“When do classes start?” She asked.

“Good question- 

_ A very good question, I hadn’t even thought of classes. _

-what’s your name?” Robert said.

“Lisa Turpin.”

“Well, Lisa Turpin, today is Sunday, so classes will start tomorrow.” He said.

There were muted groans around the common room.

“We don’t even have our time tables.” Kevin complained.

“Your time tables will be given to you at breakfast tomorrow.” Robert explained. “Breakfast hours are from 6:00 am to 7:30 am, classes start at 8:00 am.”

I mentally filed all this information away for later, making a mental note to write this all down at some point.

“Now if that’s all?” Robert asked.

At our silence he smiled.

“Good, the dorms are through this door,” He gestured behind himself, “Girls are on the right, boys are on the left.”

I was a bit confused, surely the boys and girls didn’t share dorms?

It turned out that the boys and girls didn’t share dorms, the single door opened up to a perpendicular hallway which led to the girls dorms on the right and the boys on the left just like Robert Hilliard had said. There had to be some kind of magic involved, because there was no way that such a long hallway without any turns would fit in a tower like the one we were in. The girls and I walked down the hallway hesitantly, passing other wooden doors that presumably lead to dorm rooms. We knew which ones weren’t ours because there were glowing names projected on the doors. It seemed that there were five or six girls to a dorm, judging from the number of names on each. Finally, at the very end of the hall, we came upon a wooden door listing all six of our names in alphabetical order.

  
  


**_Mandy Brocklehurst_ **

**_Su Li_ **

**_Morag MacDougal_ **

**_Padma Patil_ **

**_Adeline Potter_ **

**_Lisa Turpin_ **

  
  


In reading the list of names, I learned the name of the final girl among us, Morag MacDougal, and which Patil had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

After finding my luggage piled on the centre of the room along with the luggage of the other girls, I promptly claimed the bed beside the biggest window by flopping into it and passing out instantly.


	7. The (hot) Potions Master

“Adeline?”

I felt someone lightly poke my shoulder.

“Adeline Potter?”

Another poke.

“It's time for breakfast, Adeline.”

A third poke to my shoulder.

I dragged my head up from under a pillow to stare at whoever had woken me up. My stare was probably not very menacing since I was squinting tiredly through a curtain of mussed black hair, only vaguely remembering where I was.

After a few beats, I started recognizing the faces of the girls who I was looking at. It was Mandy Brocklehurst who was standing at the side of my bed, presumably she was the one who had been poking me. Morag MacDougal was standing silently beside her. I blinked blearily and actually took in my surroundings. The rest of the girls weren't in the dorm, I assumed that they'd gone down to breakfast already. I looked back at Mandy and Morag, they both were already wearing their uniforms.

I wiped my hand across my face in an effort to wake myself up. 

“Thanks for waking me.” I slurred.

I rolled toward the edge of the bed and let my legs dangle off until I slid further. My feet hit the wooden floor and I finally stood. I pushed my hair back from my face and looked down at myself. I was still wearing my uniform from yesterday, only now my tie had blue stripes.

I went over to my trunk that lay discarded on the floor and opened it. I rifled through it for a second before pulling out the black cloak that would complete my school uniform. The cloak was now fringed with deep blue, indicating my house. I swung it over my shoulders like a cape and was momentarily reminded of my graduation gown. A twitch of my head was my only reaction to the nostalgia that followed with that thought, and I turned back to face the girls. It was then when I realized that they had been watching me silently the whole time. 

Not knowing what else to do, I turned to Morag.

“I don't believe we've formally met, I'm Adeline Potter.” I said as I held out a hand to her. 

She stared at me for a second before shaking my hand.

“Morag MacDougal, it's a pleasure.” 

I nodded, then nodded again when I was met with silence.

“So, breakfast.” I said before turning to leave.

“You're not going to change?” Mandy asked as she and Morag walked after me.

“Nah, I'll be good like this.” I said over my shoulder.

As I walked through the common room, there were a few students there. Most of them looked at me as I passed them as I walked through the room and through the heavy, wooden door with Mandy and Morag following suit.

“What time is it, anyway?” I asked as we walked down the corridors.

“Around 7:00 am.” Mandy said.

_ Half an hour to eat then another half hour to get ready for class. _

“Thanks.” I said absentmindedly as we turned a corner and walked toward the open double doors.

Even though I had already walked through these doors, the sight of the Great Hall still took my breath away. I couldn’t stop myself from gazing around the Hall in wonder, taking it all in once more. To my surprise, there weren’t very many people eating in the Hall. Morag seemed to have noticed this too.

“Seems that everyone wanted to be early for breakfast on their first day.” She mused.

“We’re still on time, basically.” I said.

We sat at the Ravenclaw table, it seemed to have the least students compared to the other three. The food, as I expected, was superior to all other food that I had ever tasted. It was like food heaven.

“Girls! I’ve been looking for you three.” A squeaky voice said from behind us.

We turned around on the benches to see Professor Flitwick standing, holding a thin stack of parchment in his hands.

“Miss Brocklehurst.” He handed Mandy a parchment.

“Miss MacDougal.” He handed Morag a parchment.

He finally came to me.

“And… Miss Potter, it’s a pleasure to meet you by the way.” He handed me a parchment.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Flitwick.” I said as I took the parchment.

Flitwick gave a little ‘oh’ sound, then nodded and left us be.

I read over the parchment that he’d given me. It was my class time table, but it was the weirdest damn time table that I’d ever seen. It was like some kind of swirly maze, with my classes inside it. The rectangular swirl pattern started with Monday at the top left of the page, then the column went downward, listing all my Monday classes. For some reason, the classes and times were written sideways with the tops of the words facing outwards. At the bottom left corner, Tuesday was listed, with all my Tuesday classes written upside-down in the bottom horizontal row. Then, reaching the bottom right corner, Wednesday was listed, with my Wednesday classes going upwards and written sideways again, but opposite in orientation from the Monday classes. The rectangular swirling pattern repeated until Friday was a big clump of words in the centre of the page, facing this way and that.

I stared at my time table in confusion, rotating it ‘round and ‘round to follow the schedule as it was written.

“Why are you doing that?” Morag suddenly asked me.

I looked up.

“What?”

“Spinning the page.” She clarified.

“...So I can read it?” I answered, confused.

“Why don’t you just read it like normal?” She asked.

“Like, upside-down and sideways?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She said as though it was perfectly normal.

“I can’t read upside-down.” I said flatly.

“Why not?” She asked.

I was beginning to get irritated.

“Because I don’t know how.” I snapped.

“Fine then.” She said, annoyed with me in turn.

She turned her back toward me like a child.

Although, I supposed she could do that… since she was literally a child.   
  


I went back to deciphering my time table.

From what I could riddle out, there were classes five days a week from Monday to Friday like muggle schools had, and there were four periods to a day with lunch between second and third period. There were also ten minute breaks between classes, which I assumed that I would be spending most of running through the corridors, trying to find my next class. Also, unfortunately, class periods were typically to be at least two hours long, with school ending at around 5:40 pm, except for Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, for some ungodly reason, we have to wake up in the middle of the night to go to astronomy class and stare at the sky for an hour.

  
  


Monday

DADA: 8:00 am - 10:00 am

Charms: 10:10 am - 12:10 pm

Lunch: 12:20 pm - 1:20 pm

Transfiguration: 1:30 pm - 3:30 pm

History of Magic: 3:40 pm - 5:40 pm

Tuesday

Transfiguration: 8:00 am - 10:00 am

Charms: 10:10 am - 12:10 pm

Lunch: 12:20 pm - 1:20 pm

Herbology: 1:30 pm - 3:30 pm

Potions: 3:40 pm - 5:40 pm

Wednesday

Herbology: 8:00 am - 10:00 am

History of Magic: 10:10 am - 12:10 pm

Lunch: 12:20 pm - 1:20 pm

DADA: 1:30 pm - 3:30 pm

Free Period: 3:40 pm - 5:40 pm

Astronomy: 12:00 am - 1:00 am

Thursday

Charms: 8:00 am - 10:00 am

Transfiguration: 10:10 am - 12:10 pm

Lunch: 12:20 pm - 1:20 pm

DADA: 1:30 pm - 3:30 pm

Flying: 3:40 pm - 5:40 pm

Friday

Double Potions: 8:00 am - 10:00 am, 10:10 am - 12:10 pm

Lunch: 12:20 pm - 1:20 pm

Free Period: 1:30 pm - 3:30 pm

Herbology: 3:40 pm - 5:40 pm

  
  


Great, of course my first class was Defense Against the Dark Arts with my new teacher, the mass murderer. I sighed in frustration before getting an idea. I quickly turned to the Gryffindor table to look for Hermione. I scanned the length of the table but realized that she wasn’t there; I groaned quietly in irritation. It seemed that nothing was going my way.

I checked the wristwatch that I hadn’t taken off last night, it was 7:35 am. I decided to go back up to the common room, grab my books, and just go to Defense class. There wouldn’t be enough time to explore the castle or look for Hermione at that point. I nodded my goodbye to the girls and grabbed a handful of toast to eat on the way.

Finding my way back to Ravenclaw tower wasn’t too difficult, whenever I would get lost I simply asked another student with either a blue or yellow tie to point me in the right direction. Not that I didn’t trust Slytherins or Gryffindors, I just figured they’d be more likely to play a trick on me if I asked them for directions.

After getting my books, I walked back down through the castle in search of the Defense classroom. Again, asking for directions, I found it relatively quickly with twelve minutes to spare. I was surprised at how long it had taken me to get from the Hall, to Ravenclaw tower, to the DADA classroom. I made a mental note to remember how long it would take to walk from class to class. 

To my surprise, there were already a few students seated in the classroom… along with Quirrell sitting at a desk at the front. I scanned the students from the doorway, there were two Ravenclaws, Lisa Turpin and Kevin Entwhistle, a Slytherin girl that I didn’t recognize, and a Gryffindor girl with suspiciously bushy hair seated at the front row. So I plopped down in the seat beside her.

“Hi Hermione.” I said.

“Adeline!” Hermione turned and greeted me with a smile. “I didn’t see you in the Great Hall, I would have waited for you but I wanted to get to class early so I could get a seat in the front, I do hope you’ll forgive me!”

I smiled blandly at her rapidfire speech.

“It’s fine, I understand.”

She sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

I bent down to pull my books and some parchment out of my bag and set it on the desk.

“I’m quite excited for Defense Against the Dark Arts, are you?” Hermione asked.

“It seems like an interesting subject.” I said neutrally.

“I can’t wait to learn about curses and counter-curses and hexes and-”

Once I realized that Hermione was going to be talking a while, I let her voice fade into the background of my thoughts. Despite my trepidation toward Quirrell, I let my gaze slide past Hermione to stare at him. Curiosity piqued inside me, I wondered how he would comport himself while teaching. I knew that in canon, Quirrell acted like a stuttering incompetent, but I allowed myself to imagine a scenario where I would push him to reveal himself. I could turn it into a game, dropping hints of greater knowledge to put both him and Voldemort on edge. I couldn’t stop a small, manic grin from growing on my face at the thought, I quite liked unnerving people. 

But I couldn’t, I really couldn’t.

Exposing myself like that might be fun early on when Voldemort wouldn’t be able to act against me, but it would just open other avenues for him when we would meet again in the future. I would have to act like just another student around Quirrell, not to mention the rest of the staff. 

I turned back to Hermione, who was still speaking.

“-but it will still be interesting nonetheless!” 

I blinked.

“Totally.”

Luckily, Hermione hadn’t noticed my inner monologue, and she happily kept the conversation going as more and more students filed into the class. 

Following my earlier decision to act as just another oblivious student, I only watched in mild disinterest as Quirrell stumbled his way through the introductory lesson. I could see Hermione’s quickly diminishing excitement as she realized that Quirrell didn’t appear to be up to par as a teacher. Through the stuttering and nonsense, I could mostly grasp what Quirrell was talking about, but I realized that if I actually wanted to learn the course material I would either have to follow along in the textbook as Quirrell taught the class or do something else during the period and teach myself the subject on my own time. Thankfully, I had experience in shitty teachers in my life as Madeline, so I knew what work ethics were best for me.

The rest of the day was similarly uneventful. I had thought that the magical subjects that I would be learning were going to be somehow groundbreaking, mind blowing and/or advanced subject material, but halfway through the day I realized that I was in classes meant for eleven-year-olds… not young adults. With my true mental age, I was able to understand the course concepts easily and learn quicker than the children that I was surrounded by, and I would excel in tests and written projects due to my prior knowledge of essay structuring that I’d already learned in high school. The only thing that I would have to progress naturally with the other students was my magical abilities. I soon found out that magical skill was something that you had to work at, like riding a bike- except actually riding the bike without training wheels was only like, step five, and high-level wizards could do the equivalent of backflips off a halfpipe while blindfolded on a unicycle. Essentially, my body needed to be trained and my skills needed to be honed before I could perform any impressive magic. 

Though weirdly enough, all the teachers wrote backwards at one point. For example, McGonagall has two chalkboards on either side of her class, and both had the same writing on them for the lesson of the day, but like mirror images. Apparently, I really was some sort of wizarding culture thing to write backwards, forward, upside-down, and all manner of ways. I had asked Hermione why wizards did that, and she said that it stemmed from Ancient Egyptian wizarding culture and that writing every which way was normal in modern magical society. 

Another thing that I noticed was that classes weren’t shared between two Houses, but typically had a mix of all four. Class sizes ranged at about twenty students per class, with about forty students in my year, so I ended up having classes with all my yearmates at one point or another.

Then Tuesday came, and potions class came with it.

The potions classroom, in the dungeons of course, was dark and dank (and not the kind of dank that comes with memes). It was cold, the air was stuffy, and the only light was from a few dozen candles that were littered about and some light coming from a high window. Snape wasn’t there when Hermione and I arrived at class, so we just sat down at a table and waited after setting out our materials. I managed to convince Hermione not to get a table at the front, giving myself some distance from Snape’s desk.

By the time the whole class had arrived, Snape still hadn’t shown up. At this point, I was becoming mildly curious as the students around me muttered in confusion.

Then suddenly,

BANG!

We all whipped around to see the heavy, wooden door slam into the wall as it burst open. It seemed that a black blur flew in not a second later. I blinked and realized that this was Snape’s big entrance.

_ Ridiculous. _

I cringed as I watched Snape turn on his heel as he got to the front of the class and stare at us menacingly.

“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class.” Snape said lowly as he leaned back against his desk. Even though this Snape was like a younger Alan Rickman, he still had a voice like smooth velvet.

“As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few-”

At this, his gaze lazily drifted to Draco, sitting at a table of Slytherins across from me. At Snape’s recognition of him, Draco puffed up and grinned.

“-Who posses the predisposition...” Snape lightly pushed off his desk and stepped forward as he continued. “I can teach you to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”

This man knew how to keep a crowd! Snape had the whole class rapt in attention as he spoke quietly and rhythmically. I made sure to watch him impassively instead of taking notes like Harry did in canon. While I wasn’t blown away by what Snape was saying (I’d already seen him in action in the movies), I was still absorbed in what he was saying… albeit much less obviously absorbed than others in the class. 

It was that impassive expression that Snape met when his eyes finally fell on me as he slowly scanned the class. I didn’t notice the pause as we stared at each other, resuming our silent standoff from the Sorting ceremony. 

“Potter!” He said suddenly.

A blink and a slight flinch was the only reaction he got from me.

“Yes, sir?” I replied tonelessly.

I wasn’t sure how Snape was going to act- either like the book-Snape or the movie-Snape. Movie-Snape would be better, easier to work with, I supposed. Perhaps it was Alan Rickman’s portrayal, but Movie-Snape seemed a little more put together and a lot less vindictive than Book-Snape. I didn’t want to react to the professor in any meaningful way before I knew which version I was dealing with.

“Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” He asked.

Hermione’s hand shot up into the air, Snape ignored it.

My lips pursed. Even though I knew this was coming, it was still a dick move from Snape. The Draught of Living Death was on the sixth-year curriculum, as seen in  _ The Half-Blood Prince _ , there was no way I, a presumed eleven-year-old, should have known that.

Except for Hermione, who, for some ungodly reason, has made it her life’s mission to absorb every bit of information she can find.

“Um, the Draught of Living Death?” I answered.

“The Draught of Living Death,  _ Sir _ .” He corrected snidely.

I gritted my teeth to stop myself from saying the infamous line,  _ ‘No need to call me sir, Professor.’ _ Luckily, I controlled myself.

“Where, Miss Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?” Snape continued.

Hermione stretched her arm higher to get Snape’s attention.

“A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, it cures a lot of poisons.” I replied.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” He asked.

“They’re the same thing.” Was my response.

“Well, Miss Potter, you’ve shown yourself to be quite the little know-it-all.” He sneered, causing some of the others to snicker. “Name me three ingredients of the Polyjuice Potion.”

My eyes widened, this wasn’t canon!

“Um,” I racked my brain, “Some of what- who you’re turning into, like, like hair.”

I paused, thinking.

_ Shit, they literally made this several times throughout the series! _

Snape’s sneer grew at my floundering.

“Boomslang skin!” I said suddenly as I remembered the scene where Snape interrogated Harry about his missing potions ingredients in  _ The Goblet of Fire. _

“-and lacewing flies.” I added more sedately.

Snape’s sneer curdled at my save. At his expression, I realized maybe I shouldn’t have tried to one-up him in knowing all of the answers. My slight feeling of success wilted at the thought.

But Snape didn’t stop at only four right answers.

“Describe to me the effects of Amortentia.” He said.

_ Well, I know this one. Do I want to keep going? Or do I want to suck up my pride and pretend I don’t know? _

“Amortentia is known as a love potion, however, it doesn’t create true love, just a very strong infatuation or obsession.” I replied as I tried to remember Slughorn’s lesson from  _ The Half-Blood Prince _ . “Um, it also smells different depending on the person, people would perceive it as whatever smell attracts them most.”

“Adequate, Potter.” Snape droned. “Amortentia is known as the most powerful love potion in existence, although it does not create true love. It can  be identified by its characteristic spirals of steam and its mother-of-pearl sheen.  The person under the effect of the potion will only hold an obsession for the person who administered it, though the effects are temporary unless repeated administration of the potion is carried out.”

It seemed that I was off the hook for now.

“Well? Why aren’t you all writing this down?” Snape demanded after he finished.

Everyone scrabbled for their books and quills.

After Snape had taken the attendance, he set us up with a simple boil-curing potion, writing the instructions on the board instead of telling us to take out our books. I was paired up with Hermione, since we were sitting beside each other. I soon decided that I wanted Hermione to be my potions partner for the rest of my Hogwarts career. Even though Hermione and I had a beautiful partnership in the making, other groups seemed to be having trouble. Snape was going from table to table, criticizing things left and right. Although, true to canon, he was favouring the Slytherins over the other Houses, notably Draco Malfoy. Well, ‘favouring’ really meant that he didn’t take points from them and yell as often.

At one point during class, Neville had screwed up his and Seamus’ potion rather tremendously, leaving a thick green substance burning its way through the bottom of their cauldron and sliding across the desk while emitting a hissing steam into the air. Neville got covered in the potion somehow, and boils were sprouting across his face.

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled. He waved his wand and vanished the ruined cauldron and potion. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the potion off the fire?”

Neville only whimpered in response.

Snape told Seamus to take Neville up to the hospital wing, then rounded on Ron and Dean, who had been working beside the other boys. He berated them for not helping them earlier then took points from Gryffindor for their ‘outstanding carelessness’. By the end of class, only Hermione and I had made a perfect boil-curing potion. Snape didn’t remark on it as we handed it in, to Hermione’s disappointment. Snape did say something, however, when he saw my accompanied notes for the potion.

“Two points from Ravenclaw, Potter, for your atrocious handwriting.”

That just about killed any fleeting interest I had in him, no matter how lovely his voice was.

Hagrid invited me for tea later that day. Not much else happened. 

The rest of the week passed similarly, uneventful. The lessons were easy, as was the homework. The only thing that really piqued my interest was the practical magic used in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense. Further still, the only magic we were doing was the simple stuff, turning matchsticks into needles, levitation charms, and knockback jinxes. 

I had concluded that I wouldn’t draw insane attention to myself, which meant no theatricalities to entertain myself, nor any challenging other students to duel. At this point, I resigned myself to an utterly boring first year at Hogwarts.

Flying lessons came on Thursday. To my disappointment, I wasn’t a flying prodigy like Harry was, so when Malfoy inevitably stole Neville’s Remembrall, I didn’t bother to take it back from him, only watching with vague disinterest.

“Malfoy!” I called up from the ground.

Draco turned his broom in the air to gaze down on me.

“Enjoying the show Potter?” He called down gleefully.

“It was tremendous.” I said sarcastically. “Now you can give the thing back to Neville.”

“Why in the world would I do that?” He asked cockily.

I shrugged.

“I dunno, flying around and waving that damn ball in the air is only so interesting for a while.” I said. “Besides, Madam Hooch’ll come back soon, you don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Draco smirked then flew down to me. He stepped off his broom gracefully and leaned against it as he faced me.

“What would you do to make me give it back?” He asked slyly.

“Not much, I’ll tell you that.” 

His grin dropped a fraction before he continued.

“Well it wouldn’t take much for me to hide this on the roof.” He countered.

“That would be petty, and I don’t think pettiness is a Malfoy trait, Draco.” I said. “Do you?”

I continued before he could reply. “In fact, pettiness would bring dishonour to the Malfoy name, you guys are supposed to be dignified after all.”

Malfoy’s face hardened.

“Fine,” He growled, shoving the Remembrall into my hand, “Have it, see where that gets you.”

Malfoy turned on his heel and rejoined the separated group of Slytherins on the other side of the field.

_ Ah shit, _ I mused, _ I was supposed to try to be friends with him. _

“What was that?” Hermione gasped as she came up behind me.

“Burning bridges.” I replied conversationally, considering Draco’s subtle threat.

Soon enough, the next day, Malfoy came up to the Ravenclaw table during breakfast, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Oi, Potter!”

I turned around on the bench, calmly leaning my back on the table, and faced him. 

“Malfoy.” I replied.

“I suppose you’ve thought about the disrespect unbefitting of my station that you addressed me with yesterday?” He said haughtily.

“Not even for a second.” I said casually, prompting poorly stifled snickers from the Ravenclaws around us.

Malfoy gritted his teeth.

“Well then you’ll have to face the consequences of insulting a Malfoy.” He seethed.

My only response was a raised brow.

“I challenge you to a wizard’s duel, Potter.” 

Whispers broke out around the table at his words.

I tilted my chin up at Malfoy, unimpressed.

“Wands only,” He continued, “No contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

I scoffed. “I have, I just see no reason to take up your challenge, Malfoy.” 

“What, you scared?” He demanded.

“Hardly. I have nothing to prove, I’ve already defeated a Dark Lord-”

This prompted more whispers around the table.

“-Why would I want to waste my time with you?”

Malfoy floundered a bit.

“W-well it’s dishonourable to refuse an issued challenge to duel!” He said.

I laughed.

“Who said I had honour?” I asked and looked around the Ravenclaw table in mock confusion.

“Fine, Potter!” Malfoy snapped.

I raised my brows in faux surprise at his outburst.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, eventually.” He hissed.

“Can’t wait.” I replied evenly.

After he left, I got a considerable number of congratulations for standing up to Malfoy, as well as a fair number of warnings from students worried that he’d retaliate in some underhanded way. I wasn’t worried about Malfoy, I had bigger things on my mind. I still had a fair amount of time before the end of the year -it wasn’t even Halloween yet- but my inevitable confrontation with Voldemort for the Philosopher’s Stone festered at the back of my mind. 

I had done some scouting already, the third-floor corridor was easy to find, as was the door that led to the elaborate system of traps and challenges that guarded the Philosopher’s Stone. I hadn’t yet found the Mirror of Erised, but I held faith that I would find it sometime after Christmas, after Dumbledore would give me the Invisibility Cloak. 

Years ago as I planned out the sequence of events that would make up my life, I had thought that I could forgo the confrontation with Voldemort in my first year completely. Since neither Quirrel nor Voldemort would be able to release the stone from the mirror, I wouldn’t have to show up to face them at all. But as I considered, I realized that if I chose not to face them, no one would kill Quirrell, and Voldemort would still have someone to help him get back into power before the right time. If I didn’t kill Quirrell at the end of the school year, I risked throwing the whole timeline out of whack, simultaneously undermining my own plans for the future. 

The only other option aside from confronting Voldemort myself would be going to Dumbledore myself and involving him. But directly involving Dumbledore would also change the sequence of events and, more importantly, reveal myself to him. Letting things slip to Hagrid for fun was much different than clueing Dumbledore in to the true extent of my foreknowledge. I wanted to keep Dumbledore in the dark about my true knowledge as long as I could, seeing as he would deign to leave me in the dark about the prophecy. Anyway, revealing myself to him might also prompt questions that would lead him to my true nature of not even being Adeline Potter in the first place, a truth that I could never let anyone know.

Considering all this, my only viable option would be to confront Quirrell myself.

Being a pragmatist, I knew I needed to prepare myself to get past the various challenges that lay before me on my path to the Philosopher’s Stone. The first step would be getting past the Cerberus, I would have to either be quick and open the trap door before Quirrell’s harp stopped playing or I would have to find a spell to create music myself, not too difficult. The Devil’s Snare would be easy, I would only have to lay still until I would sink through to the floor below or cast sunlight spell. Getting the key to open the next door may prove to be tricky. I wasn’t a Quidditch prodigy like Harry, so I would have to practice my broom skills during flying class. Hopefully a school year would be enough time to prepare me for the task. 

The giant chessboard may prove to be the most difficult task, it didn’t have any set correct answer like the others. I didn’t really know any good chess moves or any strategy, so I would either have to practice a fair bit at chess or employ Ron Weasley to come with me so that I could use his chess skills. The troll in the chamber after would already be knocked out by Quirrell, but I should still look up some spells that would work against trolls just in case. The final challenge would be Snape’s riddle. I couldn’t remember the riddle or the answer, but I trusted that I would be able to figure it out eventually, maybe with the help of Hermione if I decided to bring her along. After those tasks, I would finally find Quirrell before the Mirror of Erised. 

Then all I would have to do is touch Quirrell with my hands and he’d die... easy enough.

All I had to do now was put my plans into motion and prepare for the coming future.


	8. It's A Terrible Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Christmas feels for this summer week in August.

In Charms, we were finally learning levitation. Happy to do any kind of practical magic, I immediately took to the spell once Flitwick let us practice on our feathers. I didn’t have that class with Hermione, so I turned out to be the first one to properly cast the spell. Flitwick congratulated me and gave five points to Ravenclaw for my success. 

The Great Hall was decorated for Halloween a day later. I had run into the school as quickly as I could after my flying lesson to see the Hall before everyone came in for the evening feast. The magical sky on the ceiling projected a stormy night, thunder rumbling quietly through the Hall every few minutes. Lit Jack O'lanterns were floating above the tables instead of the usual plain candles and the tables themselves were lined with Halloween themed decorations. There were a fair few people in the Hall already, probably for the same reason as me. I took my usual seat at the Ravenclaw table and took a moment to simply sit, taking in the festivities. 

Soon enough, Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal found me at the table and sat beside me and began talking. In the interest of having “friends” in my house, I had been trying to foster some kind of amicable relationship with the girls. It was easy enough, all I had to do was devote some time between classes and on weekends to hang out with them and act nice enough. Though sometimes it was annoying having to entertain their vapid talk and childish worries, but some sacrifices must be made. 

Dumbledore said a few words before the feast, wishing people a happy Halloween and all that. Honestly, I didn’t really pay much attention, I was too busy scanning the Gryffindor tables for Hermione. I ate and listened to the others talk absentmindedly as I pondered over where Hermione would be, it wasn’t like her to be late to anything. It wasn’t until too late that I realized where Hermione was, that she would be attacked by a-

“TROLL!”

Everyone whipped around to see who had shrieked.

Quirrell was sprinting up the main aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables.

“IN THE DUNGEONS! TROOOOOOOLL IN THE DUNGEONS!” He bellowed as he ran.

Then suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the Hall, panting, then spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Thought you ought to know.”

Then he fainted.

There was a split second of silence throughout the Hall as everyone processed what Quirrell had just announced, then, utter  **pandemonium** . Students throughout the Hall began shrieking and crying, terrified of the troll. People got up out of their seats, some began running throughout the Hall in panic, others hid under the tables. I simply sat, staring resignedly at my plate. 

Suddenly,

“ **SILENCE!** ”

Dumbledore’s magically projected voice resounded throughout the Hall, stopping everyone in their tracks. He gazed down upon the students calmly as they stared at him in muted terror.

“Everyone will please, not panic.” Dumbledore rumbled. “Now, prefects will lead their Houses back to their dormitories, and teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

After he spoke, there was a bubbling of whispers that broke out through the Great Hall. Prefects quickly rounded up their respective Houses and managed to work together to corral them through the doors.

I followed the rest of the Ravenclaws until we passed an intersection in the halls and slipped away. I crept through the empty halls of the school, making sure to hide behind a statue or column if I heard footsteps come my way. Nearing the bathroom closest to the Charms class, I ran down the last stretch of the corridor and flung myself around the corner in all haste.

Suddenly, I face-planted into something and was sent falling backwards. 

A hand grabbed my forearm and stopped me before I fell and roughly yanked me back up into a standing position. My head was spinning from the sudden collision, I blinked twice before I recognized the black robes a few inches from my face. My eyes widened in panic as I realized who I had crashed into. My head whipped up seemingly of its own volition and I stared up into the dark eyes of Professor Snape.

He sneered.

“Leave it to you, Potter, to throw your life away trying to impulsively save the day.” He sneered.

“No, Professor! I-” 

“Did it ever occur to you, Potter, that a fully grown mountain troll would crush you in an instant?” He interrupted, shaking my arm roughly.

“Hermione’s in the bathroom!” I yelled. “She doesn’t know about the troll!”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“If this is-”

“I’m not lying, I promise!” I interrupted. “If the troll gets to her, it’ll kill her!”

“And you thought that you’d fight it off?” He asked incredulously.

I threw up my free arm in exasperation.

“This is a waste of time!” I growled. “I need to go get Hermione and  _ you _ need to go to the third floor, now let me go!”

At that, I ripped my arm out of his grasp and made to run around him, toward the bathroom.

“Potter!” Snape hissed.

My collar suddenly closed tight around my neck as Snape yanked my cloak’s hood back.

“Argh- Hey!” I choked as I was pulled backward.

Snape grabbed me around the shoulders and roughly pulled me with him behind the corner that I had run out from earlier.

“What-” I gasped, fighting against him.

“Shut up!” He hissed quietly.

At his sudden change in attitude, I paused in confusion. I breathed heavily in silence for a few seconds, still a little lightheaded from almost being strangled by my teacher. It was then when I noticed the smell. I wrinkled my nose as the pungent smell of BO and- what could only be actual shit, assaulted my senses.

Behind me, Snape leaned forward to look around the corner and consequently pushed me forward as well. 

I heard it before I saw it, a low groaning echoing through the halls, followed by a deep scraping sound. My eyes widened as what could only be the aforementioned troll rounded a corner up ahead. Seeing a mediocre CGI troll in a kids movie didn’t even hold a candle to the real thing. Let me reiterate, the smell was tremendous, and not in a good way. The troll looked to be about twelve feet tall by my guess, most of its height made up by its disproportionately long torso. Its legs were short and stocky, but as thick as tree trunks. As it lumbered along, it carried a huge, wooden club behind it that dragged along the stone floors because of how long the troll’s arms were. As if its proportions couldn’t be freaky enough, the troll’s head was incredibly small compared to the rest of it, maybe about the size of my own. One thing that was constant though, was the troll’s odd, bumpy grey skin. It almost looked like a poorly made clay figure that someone had brought to life as a joke.

“It’s gonna go into the bathroom!” I hissed.

Snape pulled me back behind the corner just in time as the troll’s head whipped around, hearing my panicked whisper. Snape pushed me further back as he moved to round the corner. Panicked still, I grabbed the sleeve of his cloak.

“What are you doing?” I squeaked.

Snape took my wrist and pulled my hand off his sleeve.

“Stay there.” He muttered.

This was  _ not _ going according to plan. I almost chased after him to pull him back behind the corner when I realized who the hell this guy was. My sudden clarity of mind nearly had me banging my head against the stone wall beside me. 

This was Severus Snape! A Death Eater turned spy! Someone who had literally fought in a war!

And I was worried for him facing a damn troll?

Goddamn, I needed to get better under pressure.

I took a deep breath as I watched Snape step out into the middle of the hall, right in the view of the troll. He brandished his wand calmly and stood there, facing the troll down. Presented with a clear target, the troll passed the girls bathroom and lumbered its way toward Snape. I leaned further past the corner to get a better view of the action.

Snape flicked his wand upward in a simple motion and suddenly, miniature fireworks exploded around the troll’s head. The troll roared in confusion and pain as it swung its head around, trying to get away from the fireworks. Snape didn’t make any more moves as he watched the troll panic. I furrowed my brows in confusion, why didn’t Snape strike when the troll was distracted. 

The fireworks tapered off and the troll was left swaying dizzily in Snape’s general direction, its eyes unfocused. Snape raised his wand again and, in another fluid movement, cast another spell. I didn’t see the typical jet of light flying through the air that was characteristic of most spells, but when the spell hit the troll, it sent its head snapping back with an abrupt  _ crack _ . My mouth opened in surprise at the sudden attack. The troll toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash against the stone floor of the corridor.

_ Is it dead? _

I looked back at Snape in shock, then looked at the troll lying sprawled on the floor, then back at Snape. Snape met my gaze impassively.

“Did you just kill it?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Potter, it would have killed you without a second’s thought.” He replied. 

“I-I’m not troubled.” I muttered.

“So tell me, Miss Potter,” Snape said as he seemed to glide toward me, “Why were you under the impression that I had to go to the third floor?”

_ What? _

“I didn’t say that.” I said quickly.

Snape’s eyes narrowed minutely. 

“Nonetheless, Potter, fifteen points from Ravenclaw, for your idiocy and impulsivity.” He drawled, dropping the subject.

I pursed my lips, blinking quickly.

“Fair.”

Whatever Snape’s reply might have been, it was interrupted by several pounding footsteps headed our way from behind me. I whipped around toward the sounds, still on an adrenaline high from the troll. Snape strode purposefully past me as the rest of the teachers rounded another corner, still running toward us.

“Severus!” McGonagall exclaimed as she neared us.

McGonagall’s eyes widened as she saw me, small against the wall and blending into the shadows in my black cloak.

“Miss Potter!”

“Potter?” Echoed Flitwick from behind her, still catching up to the rest of the teachers.

Flitwick bustled past Snape and McGonagall over to me and took my hand.

“Dear girl, are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Fine.” I said hesitantly.

McGonagall rounded the corner and was met with the troll’s body.

“Severus!” She gasped. “Did you kill it?”

McGonagall’s gaze whipped back to me, still leaning against the wall.

“In front of a first-year?” She asked furiously.

“Hey, I’m fine.” I said faintly.

Snape glanced at me and snorted quietly, “Like the girl says, Minerva, she’s fine.”

At that, Snape strode away without another word.

“Come dear, let’s get you to the hospital wing.” Flitwick said softly, sharing a glance with Pomfrey.

“Hermione’s in the bathroom.” I said absentmindedly.

McGonagall immediately turned and strode to the bathroom, calling for a few other teachers to come with her. I would have stuck around to see Hermione, but Flitwick and Pomfrey were rather insistent as they tried to shepherd me to the hospital wing. 

On the walk there, I tried to get my mind in order. I didn’t really know what to feel, I had just seen Snape kill that troll. Even though it could barely be classified as intelligent life, the troll was still a living thing, and it had been killed. When plotting, I skirted over what violent and probably traumatizing events that I knew were to come on the assumption that they wouldn’t affect me, but I was unused to death. I think that maybe I fronted so much in my mind that I actually started to believe that I was emotionally unbreachable. 

But here I was, in shock over a damn troll.

The clear course of action to take after this would be to get over the situation as quickly as possible and later desensitize myself to killing, I would need to be ready to kill Quirrell by the end of the year. I knew that I couldn’t hide from emotional and mental compromisation, if these violent things would come to deeply affect me, they’d build until something dangerous would come out of it. I couldn’t have myself developing PTSD or any other kind of issue, it’d only get in the way, I couldn’t have myself breaking down into a panic attack when the going got tough. I’d have to get used to this shit.

Steeling myself as we entered the hospital wing, I simply focused on breathing and calming myself. Pomfrey led me over to a bed and helped me up onto it to sit. She and Flitwick then moved a little ways away and began speaking in hushed tones. I didn’t care enough to try to eavesdrop and went back to breathing deeply and staring at nothing. 

This technique had worked for me in the past, though under different circumstances. Earlier on, when I’d be missing home and on the verge of tears, I’d let my mind wander and go numb. This sort of meditative state had probably saved me from dwelling too much on my situation and without it, I’d probably be in a much worse mental state. 

As time went on, I’d use this technique to calm myself when I’d become furious with the Dursleys. When things would pile up, or when Petunia would be especially horrible, I’d retreat to the cupboard and essentially go numb and remind myself that all this would be necessary to lay down the foundation for future events. Just like how living with the Dursleys and tolerating them was necessary, so are the many deaths to come, including the troll.

“You know, you’re a very brave girl, Miss Potter.”

Flitwick’s voice almost startled me.

“Thank you, Professor.” I replied.

“You’re taking this very well.” He said, as though he was trying to reassure me.

At my silence, Flitwick continued.

“But should you ever need to talk- about anything, Miss Potter, my door is always open.” 

I could feel my expression soften, “Thank you, Professor, I’ll go to you first if I ever feel the need.”

Flitwick smiled at me, though there was something that marred it, something that I couldn’t recognize. I smiled back at him, hoping he’d now leave me alone. Thankfully, Flitwick turned to leave, probably feeling better about himself now that he’d done whatever job he thought was his to fulfill.

“Oh, and Miss Potter?” He suddenly turned and gave me an elfin smile. “Fifteen points to Ravenclaw for your bravery.”

With that, he left the hospital wing.

I gave a small laugh at Flitwick’s actions after he left. How convenient, Snape takes fifteen points and Flitwick later awards them, both for the same thing.

After Pomfrey relentlessly interrogated me about my mental state, she gave me some potion- apparently to calm me- and ordered that I stay overnight for the reason of “just in case”, whatever the hell that meant.

I barely made it to Herbology the next morning, since I had to run up to Ravenclaw tower and get my school books then run back across the castle out to the greenhouses. I hadn’t even had breakfast that day.

Hermione found me in one of the corridors before lunch and tackled me into a hug from behind, just about giving me a heart attack. I was surprised when she’d thanked me profusely for going to warn her about the troll. When I’d asked her where she’d heard that, she said that McGonagall had gotten her from the bathroom and had later given her an update of the situation that morning after she’d spoken with the rest of the staff. I’d told her that it was nothing, Snape had done all the work, but Hermione wouldn't have it. She said that without me, Snape wouldn’t have known that she had been in the bathroom, so I ended up as her hero no matter how I put it.

Time went on, and, through mindful breathing and other calming techniques, the troll incident went with it. It certainly seemed as though it had slipped the minds of everyone else, people had stopped gossiping and conspiring about the whole thing about a month after it happened. No one really followed up about it with me, Snape certainly didn’t care, though Flitwick did seem a little nicer to me afterward.

I initially didn’t plan to go to the first Quidditch game of the year, but Hermione of all people hounded me for a few days to go with her. I had assumed that she wouldn’t want to go see the game, but she was actually pretty excited to see her first Quidditch game and support the Gryffindor team (who would be playing against Slytherin). I brought Hermione to the Ravenclaw stands with me, since I wanted to sit with her and she’d actually become friends with some of the Ravenclaws, probably due to her Ravenclaw-like nature of general nerdiness.

The game was actually pretty fun to watch, seeing a bunch of high school aged children risk their lives on flying brooms. Slytherin won by a landslide in the end, since there was no Harry Potter to carry the Gryffindor team to victory at the last minute. 

Also, Quirrell didn’t curse my broom since, y’know, I wasn’t flying it. So I didn’t even get the entertaining sight of Snape’s robes on fire as a result.

The Quidditch game was a welcome change in pace for my dull schedule, something to keep me alive until the end of the year. Of course, I was still studying for the challenges. I learned the  _ lumos solem _ spell in case the devil’s snare went wrong. My broom skills in class were coming along, Hooch had even said that I might make the team in a few years if I kept practising. My endeavors to learn chess hadn’t been going as well as I’d hoped, to be honest. I was still confident about the riddle, seeing that I had to solve a different one every time I needed to get into the Ravenclaw common room. 

December soon came, and with it came the snow. Winter in Scotland was freezing, to say the least, I tried not to leave the castle if I could help it, even going so far as to take longer routes through the castle to classes instead of cutting through the open courtyards. Though I was stopped once by Fred and George, who wanted to show me their latest practical joke, enchanted snowballs that pelted the back of Quirrell’s turban no matter where he went. Honestly, knowing that it was Voldemort who was basically getting hit in the face sent me into hysterics.

A week and a half before Christmas break saw me in the library by the fire with Hermione.

“Adeline?”

I looked up from my book.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Hermione was biting her lip nervously as she looked at me.

“We’re friends, right?” She asked.

“Best friends, I should think.” I replied.

Hermione’s face broke out into a smile. She put down her quill and moved her parchment aside. I think she’d been writing a Transfiguration essay.

“It’s just that, whenever we have tea with Hagrid, he always calls you Addie.” She said.

“Yeah?” I was confused.

“Well I was just thinking… could I call you Addie?” 

I laughed softly. “Of course, it’s just a nickname.”

“Well yes, but…” Hermione paused, looking apprehensive. “I know that you don’t really like people being close to you.”

Surprised, I opened my mouth to interject.

“It’s alright!” Hermione spoke before me. “I understand, because of who you are… It must be difficult trusting people, not knowing if they want to be friends with you because of you or your title.”

I shifted in my seat awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Even though I usually brushed Hermione off because of her age, she was weirdly intuitive sometimes.

“I wanted you to know.” She continued. “I’m grateful to be friends with you, Adeline.”

I looked down and smiled. 

“Call me Addie.”

I didn’t deserve Hermione. I didn’t deserve such a good friend- a friend who had somehow come to know me better than anyone else in this world in the span of four months. I wasn’t even Adeline Potter, I was just some pretender in her body, manipulating people and events to serve my own means. For the first time since I was reborn, I felt truly ashamed at my actions. From then on, I decided I would try to keep Hermione with me not as a tool, but as a friend- if I still even remembered how to treat one.

Changing my outlook on my friendship with Hermione surprisingly did wonders for my general happiness. Once I started to see her not as a duty, but as a compatriot, I soon began to empathize with her and derive happiness from her own. It was mostly the little things that I had overlooked, the things that children cared about and that I would disregard. Learning a new spell or in-depth conversations about magical theory had never been so interesting before. Now I could appreciate Hermione for who she was, and I almost began to feel proud of her like an older sister.

“Are you sure you can’t come with me? My parents are happy to have you.” Hermione pleaded.

“I’m sorry Hermione, but I need to stay at Hogwarts over break, it’s important.” I said.

To my surprise, I felt disappointed that I couldn’t go with Hermione over Christmas break.

Hermione furrowed her brows, and expression that I had noticed that she wore when she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult problem. She looked around the empty hall before leaning close to me.

“Do you have to stay because of your powers?” She whispered.

Hermione had been dogging me about how I had mysteriously known her name and blood status on the train ever since we had started hanging out after classes. In November, she had finally worn me out and I had to tell her something to satiate her curiosity before others noticed her asking about it. 

I had told Hermione something similar to what I had told Hagrid on the Knight Bus, I had special powers as the chosen one, powers that gave me hidden knowledge. But I also expressed upon her the gravity of the situation and that she couldn’t repeat that information to anyone for as long as she lived. Hermione must have sensed my seriousness, because she only nodded solemnly and never brought up the topic until now.

“Yes,” I replied, matching her secretive tone, “There’s something I need to do.”

“Could I help you?” She asked.

“No, I need to go alone.” I said.

Hermione nodded disappointedly and stepped back.

Feeling a bit bad, I added, “But I will need your help later this year, Hermione, with something very important.”

At that, her eyes brightened and a determined light appeared in her eyes.

“And hey, I’d finally have a reason to use Hedwig to send letters to someone.” I added happily.

I wished that everyone would treat me like some kind of goddess like Hermione did. Ever since I had embarrassed Draco in Flying class, then further in the Great Hall, it seemed that it had become his life’s mission to irritate me to death.

“I do feel so sorry,” He drawled, his breath coming out in puffs of mist in the freezing air of the potions class, “-For all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

Crabbe and Goyle chortled on either side of him, but Draco was looking only at me as he spoke. I mimed laughing sarcastically at him from across the classroom.

“Potter!”

My head whipped around to face Snape.

“Concentrate on your work, one point from Ravenclaw.” He snapped.

Christmas break couldn’t come fast enough.

I went to the train station to see Hermione off, she hugged me tightly and said that she’d send me my Christmas present by owl post.

Wait…

Christmas present?

Shit!

I nearly groaned out loud when Hermione spoke, I hadn’t given  _ Christmas presents _ of all things a moment’s thought. There was still another week before Christmas Eve, I just had to hustle to find Hermione something. 

After the train left, I ran to the castle to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I couldn’t go out and buy anything, there wasn’t any bloody mini-mall in Hogwarts. Then the thought struck me, Hogsmeade. There were stores at Hogwarts where I could buy Hermione something, I certainly had enough wizard money since the Potters were filthy rich. Wait, a pitfall, only third-years and older could go to Hogsmeade, and I was a first-year. 

Idea! I could use the invisibility cloak to sneak in!

Another pitfall, I didn’t have the cloak yet, and I wouldn’t get it until it was too late.

I groaned loudly in the hall, causing some ghosts floating by to stare at me oddly.

Wait, another idea.

I breathed deeply and steeled myself before the tall, oaken door. I held up my hand and knocked twice.

“Professor Flitwick?” I called.

The door swung open and I heard Flitwick’s merry voice.

“Come in, my dear!”

He was in a good mood, brilliant. I walked into Flitwick’s office, looking around casually as I went.

“Sit, sit, Miss Potter.” He said, smiling at me from behind his desk.

I sat.

“What is it that you needed?”

I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.

“Professor, I’m really sorry to bother you…”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to help any of my wise little eagles!” He said.

I smiled at his joviality.

“It’s just, I was wondering if you could take me to Hogsmeade to get Hermione a Christmas gift.” I asked, immediately feeling like an idiot after the words left my mouth.

“Hermione’s like, my first ever friend and I don’t wanna be a bad friend and not get her a present and I know that I’m not old enough to go to Hogsmeade so I was thinking that I could go under supervision and it wouldn’t even take long-” The words spilled out of me at a rapidfire pace.

But I was interrupted by Flitwick’s sudden laughter.

“Of course, dear girl.” He said with a smile. “We can’t have your Hermione go without a Christmas gift, now can we?”

A relieved smile broke out across my face. 

_ That was easier than I thought it would be! _

“Thank you, Professor.”

Initially I had thought to get Hermione a book, but I didn’t know what books she had or didn’t have, or what kind of book she’d even want. Then I figured that she’d probably get like a million books already from family and whatnot, so I decided to get her something a little more personal. After browsing a couple of shops (and sneakily buying a box of chocolates for Professor Flitwick while his back was turned), I found a matching set of two bracelets that would be perfect for Hermione and I. Both were made with a simple black cord with a golden pendant on each, one pendant being the moon and the other the sun. When I saw the price, I was surprised, but went to buy them anyway. At the till, I asked the clerk why the high price, and it turned out that if one pendant was held tightly and a passcode was spoken, the other pendant would heat up. I grinned at that, all the more excited to give one to Hermione.

The Ravenclaw common room was practically empty when I got back, everyone in my year had gone home for Christmas and I didn’t know anyone who had stayed. Unlike Harry, I didn’t need to go searching through the library for books about Nicholas Flamel, so there wasn’t anything I could do to further the overarching plot. What little homework that I had over the break I finished in the first three days, I resorted to simply explore the halls of Hogwarts in my boredom. To my dismay, I wasn’t able to find the Mirror of Erised- I kept being stopped by either ghosts, prefects, teachers, or Filch whenever I tried to sneak into a prohibited area. I needed the Invisibility Cloak if I was going to make any real progress.

Christmas Eve morning, I sent out Hedwig to Hermione with her wrapped present, hoping that it’d get to her house before morning so that either she or her parents could put it under their Christmas tree. I got a letter myself that morning, inviting me to the Christmas Eve feast in the Great Hall, it was sort of cute. Since I didn’t have any nice clothes, or any clothes at all other than the Hogwarts uniform, I had to attend the feast in my school robes like always. 

As I entered the Great Hall, I was surprised to see that the layout of the tables had been changed. Instead of the four House tables and the high table at the end of the Hall, there stood one heavily decorated table in the centre of the Hall. It seemed that everyone would be sitting together during the Christmas Eve feats, no matter Slytherin or Gryffindor, teacher or student. There were about a dozen people already seated who turned to look at me when I entered, I smiled awkwardly at Professor Flitwick when I caught his eye. As I passed the nearest corner of the table, I realized that there were arranged seats with names placed on each place setting. I scanned the side of the table, looking for my own name. My heart slowly sank as my gaze traveled further out the table toward where the teachers all seemed to be seated. 

I almost turned right back around when I realized who I was seated beside.

Honestly, at this point I would have taken Snape.

It took all the strength I had in my very  _ soul  _ not to growl out loud as I slowly pulled out my chair and sat beside Professor Quirrell. 

“Happy Christmas, Miss Potter.” Flitwick greeted me cheerily from a few seats away, seated beside McGonagall. 

“Merry Christmas, Professor Flitwick.” I replied, trying to put some cheer into my tone. “And to you all, Professors.”

The rest of the Professors (bar Snape) gave me some kind of smile or an echoed  _ ‘Happy Christmas’ _ in response, even Quirrell piped up with his stuttering bullshit beside me.

We all waited around a bit for the last few students to show up to the feast, making small talk and whatnot. It was almost surreal to see the Professors talk to each other about normal human things, instead of school stuff. Finally, Ron, Fred, and George Weasley all came barrelling through the great oaken doors. Ron was seated beside me, with his brothers on his other side, we exchanged a few greetings but he didn’t pursue any further conversation, electing to speak with his brothers. 

I didn’t really speak with anyone throughout the feast, I had no will to make meaningless conversation. Unfortunately, conversation caught my attention halfway through dinner.

“Oh yes! Miss Granger is a very talented girl, wouldn’t you say, Minerva?”

McGonagall nodded and set down her goblet.

“Indeed, I foresee a very talented witch in the making.” She said.

“Miss Potter,” Flitwick said, “You seem to be a close friend to Miss Granger. After all, we did make a trip for her Christmas gift.”

I laughed a bit awkwardly at having been called out. I looked down at my lap in mostly false embarrassment.

“Hermione means a lot to me.” I replied. “She will be wildly successful in the future, actually.”

I cast my mind back to when I read the  _ Cursed Child _ . However bad that book may be, JK had said that she sees the thing to be somewhat canon, which meant that Hermione would probably become the Minister of Magic. 

I heard a faint snort down the table. 

Snape.

“With all due respect, Professor, Hermione  _ will _ be one of the greatest witches of her age and will become a household name within the next generation, I assure you.” I retorted, whipping around to address Snape.

“A household name?” Snape echoed mockingly. “Are you sure your words aren’t being muddled by your own fame, Potter?”

My lip curled into a snarl before I could stop it. I leaned forward over the table, my eyes narrowed on Snape, and snarled my response.

“Y-”

“Adeline, Severus, I do believe that Christmas time is one for less… explosive conversations.” Dumbledore interjected mildly before I could say something that I may have regretted later.

“Sorry, Headmaster.” I said.

“...Indeed.” Snape deferred.

“Though, Miss Potter,” Dumbledore continued merrily, “I do hear that you often make similar predictions, will Professor Trelawney be expecting a new star student in a couple of years?”

I shrugged, glancing at Trelawney who had perked up at the mention of her name.

“Possibly, Sir.” 

Then, Dumbledore wisely guided the conversation to something relatively harmless and both Snape and I remained minimally conversive during the rest of the feast. I ate calmly, keeping my eyes trained on my plate so that I wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Snape and subsequently vault over the table to choke him with his own hair.

A poke to my shoulder interrupted my inner murderous thoughts.

I turned toward Ron with an expression of annoyance and confusion. At my gaze, his face quickly reddened and he leaned back in his seat to reveal a grinning Fred and George on his other side. One of the twins, the one immediately beside Ron, leaned over him to poke me again.

“What?” I asked.

“Why’re you still in uniform, Potter?” He asked.

“Forgot it was the holidays?” The other twin added.

I stared at them dully.

“I don’t have any other clothes.” I muttered and turned back to my plate.

Maybe a minute passed before I was poked again.

“What?” I hissed.

“You serious, Potter?” A Weasley twin asked.

“Super serious.” I growled and turned back to my plate.

Another poke.

I grabbed my steak knife off my place setting and brandished it at the twins below the table, coincidentally right over Ron’s lap. Ron, who was still sitting awkwardly between our little standoff, squeaked at my sudden wordless threat.

“Our mum makes really warm sweaters, Potter.” One of the twins said.

“We could ask her to make you one.” The other offered.

My expression dropped from its snarl and I furrowed my brows in confusion. I looked around at the rest of the table to see if our conversation had continued unnoticed before I spoke.

“You don’t even know me and you’re offering for your mother to make me clothes?” I asked incredulously, then repeated. “You don’t even know me!”

“‘Course we do, Potter.”

“You said our snowball prank on Quirrell was inspired!”

I shook my head at them.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I muttered, then turned back to my plate in finality. Though as I turned, I caught Dumbledore’s gaze. He smiled at me, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.


	9. Are You There, God? It's Me, Madeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a sad chapter this time. Not much action, however, there is some interaction with Quirrell and Dumbledore for tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this listening to "Toxic" on loop so if there are any grammar mistakes, it's Britney Spears' fault.

I returned to Ravenclaw tower late into the night. The feast had gone later than I had expected, ending up to be seven whole courses and dessert. So being a child who wasn’t permitted to have a full night’s sleep for most of her life, now finally on holiday, I slept in until noon.

“Potter!”

I looked up blearily, pulling my oversized ‘pyjama’ shirt up where it had slipped off my shoulder as I walked into the Ravenclaw common room. Some of the older kids were seated around the common room looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Took you long enough.” An older girl commented.

“Yeah, we almost opened your presents for you.” A boy called. After a moment I recognized him to be the Prefect, Robert Hilliard.

I laughed tiredly.

“Good thing you didn’t.” I drawled, making my way to the Christmas tree in one of the corners of the common room.

I looked over the remaining gifts and counted three wrapped gifts for me. 

One gift was rather large and plush-looking under the wrappings, so I surmised that it was the Invisibility Cloak from Dumbledore and set it aside to later open in my room. Another was a small gift, wrapped in thick, brown paper. As I held it up to examine it closer, I read what was scrawled across the side of it, ‘ _ To Addie from Hagrid’ _ . I immediately felt bad that I hadn’t gotten the kind man anything. The other gift was clearly Muggle by the Santa Claus themed wrapping paper. I smiled as I read the note on it,  _ ‘Happy Christmas Addie, from Hermione’ _ . 

I opened Hagrid’s gift to reveal a small, roughly-cut wooden flute. I was clear that Hagrid had taken the time to carve it for me and I felt even worse for not getting him a Christmas present. Hermione’s gift was a box of Chocolate frogs, Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, and a book called _ A Beginner’s Guide to Dueling _ . I was intrigued by the book, clearly Hermione had remembered when I had mentioned in passing that I had wanted to get into dueling.

I gathered the flute, the sweets, the book, and the still-wrapped Cloak and turned to go back to my room. I stopped short when I saw some of the Ravenclaws still watching me.

“What’s the last one, then?” the girl who had spoken earlier asked.

“Something to open in private.” I replied.

She laughed at my words and raised her hands in a  _ ‘okay then’  _ gesture.

My assumption was proven to be correct when I opened the gift in my room to reveal the Invisibility Cloak. I picked it up and ran a hand across the material in awe, the Cloak somehow felt ethereal. It seemed like it was some kind of liquid fabric, it was so smooth and fluid to the touch. It didn’t seem to be a solid colour either, the dark fabric shifted through shimmering hues at different angles as I examined it. 

I walked over to the full-length mirror in the adjoined bathroom with the Cloak. As I turned it over in my arms, I noticed some kind of small metal attachment to it. I unfolded the Cloak and found another metal attachment and realized that they were clasps. I held each clasp in my hands as I stared into my reflection in the mirror, then threw the Cloak around myself. To my delight, as soon as the Cloak came over me, I was invisible... well only from the neck down. I clasped the Cloak and let it sit on my shoulders. I reached up behind myself to grope for some of the fabric to pull over my head when I found a hood attached to the Cloak. I pulled the hood over my head in confusion.

_ The Invisibility cloak didn’t have a hood in the movies. _

When the hood rested on my head, my face disappeared from view as well, even though it wasn’t strictly  _ covered  _ by the fabric of the Cloak. As I was totally invisible, I could see the Cloak itself again, as well as my body underneath it. Looking at it was odd, the Cloak seemed to be semi-transparent to my eyes, allowing me to see myself beneath it. I noticed amusedly that the Cloak folded around me on the ground, clearly meant for a grown adult to wear. 

Now armed with the Invisibility Cloak, one of the three famed Deathly Hallows, I would be able to sneak around Hogwarts without issue. I smirked to myself as my mind spun with all the possibilities the Cloak presented to me. 

Still invisible, I walked back over to my bed where the rest of my presents sat. As I moved to take the Cloak off, I noticed a small square of cardstock paper in the wrappings of the Invisibility Cloak. I picked it up and flipped it over to find a small message inscribed in it.

_ “Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. _

_ Use it well. _

_ A Very Merry Christmas to you, Adeline.” _

I smiled as I read Dumbledore’s words and considered just thanking him in person for the Cloak for the sole purpose of freaking him out. I put the Cloak at the very bottom of my trunk, hidden under everything I owned. I put the sweets and the flute in the trunk as well, though I grabbed one chocolate frog to bring to breakfast, and put my new book with my other wizarding books. 

I changed into my uniform quickly and went downstairs to the Great Hall in hopes that the breakfast feast hadn’t already been cleared away. As I arrived at the Great Hall, I noticed that the dishes still remaining were beginning to disappear off the tables. In great haste, I grabbed one of the empty plates and began grabbing various foods and piling them onto my plate with my hands before they too disappeared. 

After breakfast, I went to the library to continue reading about animation enchantments. Seeing as though my endeavours to master chess were going dismally, I figured that I could reverse whatever spell was on the chess pieces so that they’d go back to being inanimate. Unfortunately, the magic involved seemed to be far out of my league to perform.

I came back into the common room later in the day to find yet another present sitting on my bed. It was a lumpy, oddly wrapped thing. I tilted my head at it in confusion as I neared the bed. I pulled a card off the top of the package and, to my surprise, read that it was from Molly Weasley…

_ ‘Dear Adeline Potter, _

_ Fred and George owled me the other day, they thought you’d like a warm Weasley sweater for the holidays. Happy Christmas, dear. _

_ Love, Molly Weasley’ _

I laughed quietly as I put down the card, Fred and George had come through with their offer during the feast. I opened the package and pulled up the sweater to look at. True to the twins’ words, it was very thick and looked quite warm. There wasn’t a letter  _ ‘A’ _ on it like I thought there would have been like the Weasley kids had. To my surprise, the sweater was emerald green in colour, almost perfectly matching my eyes, either a total coincidence or one of the Weasleys had told their mother. Odd.

I quickly pulled off my outer cloak and my Ravenclaw tie, leaving me in my white collared shirt and black slacks. As I pulled the sweater over my head, I marveled at how soft the handmade garment was. It was a little long on me, but that only meant that I could grow into it later. 

The rest of the day passed slowly. I was eagerly awaiting nightfall so I could properly try out the Invisibility Cloak. But what took me completely by surprise was the feast that evening. I had thought the feast last night had been whatever Christmas celebration that Hogwarts was going to throw, but I was dead wrong. As I entered the Great Hall, I saw that the four House tables and the high table were back, but the festivities were in full swing. 

Fred and George spotted me from the Gryffindor table and eagerly waved me over. 

“Look, Adeline’s got a Weasley sweater too!” One of them- I should really try to find out which twin in which- called out to the other Weasleys seated around them.

Fred and George were wearing sky-blue sweaters, one with a large yellow  _ ‘F’ _ on the font, the other with a matching  _ ‘G’ _ . By their sweaters, it seemed that George was the one that had first spoken.

“Doesn’t have a letter on it though,” The other- probably Fred- added with a grin, “I suppose mum thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid, we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

I smiled at the joke and looked around at the rest of the Weasleys. Ron and Percy sat with the twins, the latter looking rather grumpy about it. They were wearing Weasley sweaters as well, also sporting the first letter of their names on the front. Percy had a lumpy, sunset orange sweater with a black letter _ ‘P’ _ , and Ron looked rather put out with his maroon sweater with a navy blue  _ ‘R’ _ .

I sat beside George with Fred sitting across from me at the Gryffindor table.

“Am I allowed to sit here?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s Christmas!” Fred said merrily. “Old Dumbledore won’t be that mean, he can probably see you’ve got no friends at the Ravenclaw table.”

“Hey.” I said weakly in protest.

If I had thought that the feast from the night before was great, this feast topped it by a million times. Even though there was only a fraction of the Hogwarts students present in the Great Hall, the tables still overflowed with food. What seemed like a hundred roasted turkeys lined the centres of the tables every metre or so, surrounded by roasted and mashed potatoes and foods of all kinds. Silver boats of rich, thick gravy slowly danced around the plates, shimmering as they caught the light of the floating candles above. 

At every place setting, there was a magical Christmas cracker. Fred reached across the table and offered me the end of his and a loud  _ BANG _ reminiscent of cannonfire sounded from the toy. As it broke open, a navy admiral’s hat and seven live mice fell out of it. Fred let me keep the hat. He and George then made their way up and down the Gryffindor table, taking the remaining Christmas crackers from the empty place settings. We ended up with a few dozen prizes between us. 

The teachers were in a similar state at the high table. Dumbledore had traded his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowery bonnet and stole the jokes out of the rest of the crackers along with Flitwick. Hagrid was becoming redder and redder in the face as he downed jewelled goblets of wine at a steady pace. 

I was caught by surprise when the Christmas pudding- which wasn’t actually pudding, more like some kind of cake- was lit by blue flames. The Weasleys cheered around me as they cut into the still-flaming dessert with long, bronze knives and served it. 

I left the Great Hall with a smile on my face and my arms full of various prizes from the Christmas crackers. The admiral’s hat still sat on my head and I carried a package of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a pocket watch that could indicate if someone was lying to you that I’d gotten from Ron in trading him a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and (ironically) my own wizard chess set. 

“Oi, Addie!”

I turned back to the Weasleys.

“Meet us outside the Gryffindor common room at noon tomorrow!” Fred yelled across the Hall to me.

“Okay!” I yelled back.

I slept soundly that night, and forgot to go looking for the Mirror of Erised.

The next day was passed with a furious snowball fight with the Weasleys. I had initially teamed up with Fred and George against Percy and Ron, but betrayed them with a handful of snow to each of their faces when I had realized that we seriously outmatched the other team. Running to the other side of the courtyard, I immediately made a game plan with the other two Weasleys and launched an ambush on the twins with Percy and Ron. 

I went back to the Ravenclaw common room that evening tired and soaked from the melted snow. I took off my emerald sweater and hung it on one of the posts of my bed and hoped that it wouldn’t shrink because of the water. As I got ready for bed, I remembered that I had forgotten about the Cloak. I huffed quietly in annoyance when I realized that I hadn’t gone through with my plan to use it last night.

I rolled out of bed and changed back out of my pyjamas. If I was caught, I wouldn’t want to be caught in my pjs. I didn’t bother with the tie or the outer robe though, I just swung the Invisibility Cloak over my collared shirt and pulled up the hood as I made my way quietly out of Ravenclaw tower. 

The halls were hell to navigate. Everything was dark as the torches had been extinguished and there were no light sources other than the moonlight that shone through the scattered windows of the castle. I wasn’t dumb enough to bring a lantern with me because a) it would have negated the whole purpose of an invisibility cloak, and b) it would have alerted Filch to my presence if this was the night that had been in the movie. 

I didn’t need to break into the Restricted Section of the library though, since I already knew who Nicholas Flamel was and I didn’t need to research him, so I only had one objective: find the Mirror of Erised. I had a few locked doors in mind to check that I hadn’t been able to get into during the day, but most of them were scattered all over the school. Considering the number of planned places and possibly impromptu places that I would be searching, it may take me a few days to cover everything. It wouldn’t be a problem though, I wasn't really on a time crunch at this point. 

It had been a couple hours into my search that I had come near the library. Some of my more obvious locked doors hadn’t come up with anything interesting. Funnily enough, I had actually found the trophy room by accident and, sure enough, Tom Riddle’s award for  _ ‘Special Services to the School’ _ had been there. Since Harry had been in the library before he had found the Mirror, maybe I could find it eventually by canvassing the areas surrounding the library and moving outward until I found it. Granted, the plan was rudimentary and vague, but it was the best that I had unless I really wanted to put in the effort of actually breaking in somewhere. 

I rounded another corner toward the library when-

“Don’t!-”

I jumped and only barely managed to stifle a scream.

“-Try to deceive me, Quirrell.” Snape snarled, pinning Quirrell up against the stone pillar.

I watched, wide-eyed, at the confrontation.

“S-Severus, I-I-” Quirrell stuttered.

“You don’t want me as your enemy.” Snape interrupted gravely.

“W- I d-don’t kn-know what y-you mean.” Quirrell countered.

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” Snape said.

Quirrell didn’t reply, he simply shivered in Snape’s grasp. Snape stared Quirrell down silently, daring him to speak. 

“We’ll have another little chat, Quirrell.” Snape said after a beat. “When you’ve had time to decide where your loyalties lie.”

At that, Snape spun on his heel and disappeared down the corridor in a flurry of black robes, his strides echoing off the stone walls. Quirrell stayed pressed against the wall, panting quietly in pretended fear, watching Snape until he turned the corner. I stared at Quirrell a while longer, hidden under the Cloak. As I suspected, his face smoothed out from his fearful cringe and a calm and calculating expression took over. He made a quiet huff of disgust before he turned away from me and made to walk in the other direction.

But as the back of his head was turned to me, I was struck with a stinging pain lancing through my forehead. I hissed in pain at the sudden stabbing feeling in my head.

As the quiet sound carried, Quirrell spun around again in alert.

Before I could do anything-

“Homenum revelio.”

-The Invisibility Cloak flew off of my head.

I wildly brandished my wand out of reflex at Quirrell from the sudden attack. We both stood there for a moment, wands leveled at each other, each mind flying through possibilities and strategies. Quirrell laughed suddenly and lowered his wand.

“M-Miss Potter,” He said meekly, “It’s past curfew.”

I mimicked Quirrell and lowered my wand as well then bent to pick up my cloak from the ground, still keeping my eyes on him.

“W-What’s that y-you’ve got there?” He asked hesitantly.

“A demiguise cloak.” I lied. “I got it for Christmas.”

“V-Very nice.” He said. “S-Since it is the Christmas season, I-I’ll only take fif-fifteen points f-from R-Ravenclaw, M-Miss Potter, b-but you-you’ve escaped detention.”

He laughed quickly at the joke.

I smiled stonily.

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll be on my way back to Ravenclaw tower.” I said flatly then turned to leave.

“S-See that you w-w-will, P-Potter.” He called after me.

As I rounded the corner, I broke into a run down the halls. I wouldn’t trust Quirrell not to curse me when my back was turned for catching him breaking character. Honestly, I was surprised that he didn’t just blast me when he first discovered me lurking. Though, maybe he wanted me to remember Snape cornering him if only to put my suspicion onto Snape. 

I stopped only to throw the Invisibility Cloak back around me then sprinted in another direction, hoping to present a confusing path through the halls if anyone were to follow my trail. I ran so far and so erratically that I wound up losing myself through the castle. I slowed to a light jog, then to a walk as I looked around the new corridor that I had found myself in. I tried to keep my tired panting as quiet as I could as I rounded another corner to reach another identical stone hallway. 

A door stood ajar to my left, and seeing an opportunity to rest, I slipped in. I surveyed the inside before I took the Cloak off to reveal myself. It looked like an abandoned classroom, there were desks and chairs piled up on one side of the room to make space for…

No.

Come on.

No.

It wasn’t even in a locked room?

After two hours of searching.

And it wasn’t even that well hidden?

I stopped myself from flipping one of the desks in supreme irritation. But man, I felt so pissed. I spent two hours sneaking through a dark, freezing castle at night, breaking into locked room upon locked room… only to accidentally come across the Mirror of Erised in an unlocked, abandoned classroom? 

I tossed the Cloak onto one of the desks with a huff as I neared the Mirror. Looking at it more closely, it was actually very beautiful. Standing on golden, clawed feet, the Mirror towered over me. It was decorated heavily in a gold frame with shining filigree all around it. I looked up to the top of the frame, reading the inscription.

_ “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi” _

I read it backwards in my mind, 

_ “I show not your face but your hearts Desire” _

I stepped closer to the Mirror and looked into it and I gasped softly as I saw my reflection. 

It was me. 

To clarify, not me as in Adeline Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, but me, Madeline Fischer. I was no longer a short and stunted eleven-year-old, I had become again a young woman. Gone was the flyaway, black Potter hair, replaced by chocolate brown waves falling down my shoulders. Soft, hazel eyes gazed back at me from a delicately freckled face. I wasn’t really vain to be honest, but spending over a decade in someone else’s body made me realize how much I appreciated my own, seriously- I had boobs again!

My eyes roamed over my reflection in awe and noticed something behind me. As my attention shifted, a sob broke out from my chest. Behind me stood my family, my real family. I knew right away that it was an unrealistic, idyllic scene since my now-divorced parents weren’t side-eyeing each other at the very least. But it brought a feeling of intense nostalgia nonetheless. 

My mum stood beside me with a smile, one that I hadn’t known that I’d missed desperately for a decade. My dad stood behind us, laughing silently at some unheard joke like he tended to do at the oddest moments. My younger brother stood at my other side, playfully elbowing my reflection with a smirk. As I realized that I couldn’t feel his prodding, tears finally fell down my face as I broke down. 

I fell to my knees on the cold stone floor of the abandoned classroom in anguish. I could hardly see the Mirror through the tears in my eyes. I tried to keep my sobbing as quiet as I could from the faint reminder of stealth at the back of my mind. But I soon came to a point where I didn’t care anymore if I was caught. I cried harder, mourning the life that I had been ripped from. I hadn’t truly cried or taken the time to acknowledge my painstaking loss in my time before Adeline Potter. Now, all this sorrow had built up without my notice and was now pouring out of me as though I couldn’t possibly hold in any more of my despair. 

It must have been up to an hour that I had been sitting in front of the Mirror for. Each time that I had thought that I was done crying, I’d look back up at the reflections of the family that I had lost and start crying all over again. Eventually, I had resigned myself to my situation and had pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over my head and simply sat, staring at the Mirror with silent tears running down my face.

I wasn’t one to move past emotions, I was the kind of person to stew in whatever vice had caught me until something snapped me out of it. So I was, in some twisted way, content to sit before the Mirror of Erised and drown in my grief forever.

So I did.

I registered belatedly when sunlight had crept across the dusty floor of the classroom, but made no effort to move. I still didn’t tear my attention away from the Mirror when my stomach folded in on itself in hunger pains. Life in the castle bustled along without me. Sometimes I heard footsteps across the hall, but I was in a remote enough part of the castle that no one had found me there. Evening soon came again, but my gaze on the Mirror didn’t falter as the classroom darkened once more.

“Miss Potter.”

Was I hearing things now?   
  


“Adeline.”

I turned slowly on the floor to stare blankly at the direction of the voice.

“Would you please take that off, Adeline?” Dumbledore asked softly.

I pulled my hood off roughly in response, revealing my tearstained face to Dumbledore.

His face crumpled in pity and he slowly crept closer.

“I’m so sorry Adeline.” He whispered.

“Did you do this?” I asked flatly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He replied.

“Did you put the Mirror in my path?” I clarified, my senses coming back to me little by little.

“I did not,” He shook his head, “And if I had known how it would have affected you I would not have kept it in the school at all.”

I stared at him dully for a moment.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying.” 

“My dear girl,” Dumbledore said in faint surprise, “I’m not lying to you.”

“It’s always hard to tell with you, Headmaster.” I said, ignoring his denial and turning back to look at the Mirror. “You’re a very clever man.”

Dumbledore sighed softly.

“Adeline-”

“What do you see in the Mirror, Headmaster?” I interrupted. “What is your heart’s deepest desire?”

I didn’t turn back around to see Dumbledore’s expression, but I imagined that I had taken him by surprise.

“Well… I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.” He replied.

I turned to stare at him again.

“One can never have enough socks.” He added. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

I smirked humorlessly.

“Now there’s a lie.” I said and turned back to look at the Mirror.

“Miss Potter.” Dumbledore said in reprimand.

“Professor Dumbledore.” I mimicked.

He sighed again.

“Is there something you wish to tell me?” He asked.

“You’ve probably guessed whatever it is.” I muttered. “Your guesses are rarely wrong.”

“Alright then.” He replied.

I didn’t turn as I heard some shuffling from behind me. A small grunt beside me caused me to turn in surprise. Dumbledore had lowered himself to sit beside me on the floor. If anything, his action had shocked me right out of my melancholic state as I stared at him in utter astonishment.

“Adeline,” Dumbledore started, “It has come to my attention that there may be more to you than what meets the eye.”

“Do you know what I see in the Mirror?” I interrupted suddenly.

In both the movie and the book, Dumbledore had known what Harry had seen in the Mirror of Erised. I had surmised that it was due to legilimency, but if Dumbledore was using legilimency on me now then he’d know the entire future of the upcoming war and the wizarding world of Britain.

Dumbledore looked at me slightly annoyed in response.

“Sorry.” I said quickly. “But…”

I searched for what to say.

“...You’re supposed to know what I saw…” I pursed my lips, not wanting to reveal too much to him. “...But circumstances are different than what they’re supposed to be…”

I avoided his eyes as I spoke; maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because I knew that he was a legilimens.

“That is, I think, the heart of the matter.” He replied.

I looked up at him in confusion.

“I have heard…” He paused. “That you are gifted with a power that few possess, Adeline.”

“A power that the Dark Lord knows not.” I added wryly.

“Please do not reveal such things lightly, Adeline.” Dumbledore said sternly.

“Not lightly,” I replied, “I know who I’m talking to.”

“Indeed.” He said, now sounding wearier than I’d ever heard him.

Silence fell in the classroom for a few moments.

“I am to trust... that you have some type of supernatural knowledge?” He asked.

“Mostly.” I replied vaguely.

I sniffled suddenly and wiped my eyes.

“Then I presume that I must also trust that you know how to use this knowledge responsibly?” He continued.

“Mostly.” I repeated.

Dumbledore laughed tiredly.

“Indeed, I see that you do not wish to share your secrets with an old man, Adeline.” He said and slowly made to stand back up. “I suppose I can only have faith in you to make the right choices when the time comes.”

Dumbledore smiled softly down at me as he held out a hand to help me up. I took it, not really leaning on him too much for fear that I’d pull him right back down.

“Now,” Dumbledore said, suddenly becoming jovial, “Why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed, my dear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little sad somewhat fast. Worryingly, Adeline keeps forgetting parts of the Harry Potter books, so she asks Dumbledore if he's using legilimency on her. In actuality, in the book, you can suss out that Dumbledore only knew what Harry saw in the mirror of Erised because he was there when Harry told Ron about it when he led the other into the empty classroom.


	10. Trials And Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline's plans finally come to fruition as she and Hermione venture down into the forbidden room on the third floor.

Winter came and went. I made it my personal mission to forget about my encounter with the mirror. I told myself that impossible desires would only torture me further.

Quirrell seemed to be becoming more and more sickly as time went on. I hadn’t noticed before Christmas, but now his deterioration seemed to be progressing rapidly. I couldn’t really remember what Voldemort was doing to Quirrell, only that he was acting as some sort of parasitic spirit. Though I didn’t know whether Voldemort was sucking out Quirrell’s magic, his life force (if there was such a thing), or was simply killing him from whatever strain that came with sharing a body between two souls.

Hermione had liked the present that I’d given her, she was especially fascinated by the charmwork placed on the pendants. I ended up owling her the moon pendant, thinking it fitting but not being able to place the reason why. We had agreed to make the passphrase “Gondolin”, after I had explained to Hermione that as the elves of Gondolin used a secret tunnel to escape Morgoth’s armies in  _ The Silmarillion _ , so would the bracelets be our secret means of escape were we ever separated and in trouble. Call me a nerd, but sometimes I wished that I woke up in Middle Earth instead.

At my flowery explanation, Hermione had beamed and threw her arms around me in a tight hug, vowing to never take the bracelet off. 

During the next week of classes, I was wracking my brain to try to remember what happened next in the story. Considering Christmas and the confrontation with Quirrell at the end of the school year, I couldn’t quite recall any events that occurred in between. It wasn’t until Hermione started studying for the end-of-the-year exams that it finally hit me.

“Addie, do you remember the eleventh use for dragon’s blood? It seems to have slipped my mind.” Hermione asked me absentmindedly one day in study hall.

My hand froze in the middle of my writing.

“Say that again?” I muttered.

“Do you remember the eleventh use for dragon’s blood?” She repeated confusedly, “I-”

“Dragon.” I interrupted.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Norbert.” I added.

“Addie, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, waving her hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

At the sudden movement, I snapped up to look at her.

“Vision. Remembered. Sorry.” I fired off, my brain still running a mile a minute.

Sometime before the end of the year, Harry and co. were supposed to visit Hagrid after hours. Hagrid would have had a dragon’s egg by now, given to him by a disguised Quirrell in order to get information about the Philosopher’s Stone. Malfoy would have gotten the trio in trouble and, as a result, all four of them would have served detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. This detention session would have resulted in Harry crossing paths with Voldemort drinking unicorn’s blood and almost being attacked.

Now, I reflected, this scene doesn’t really provide any character progression or any meaningful information for the characters, it only prompted Harry to act quickly to get the Stone under the assumption that Voldemort was getting stronger and was about to return to the wizarding world. I didn’t particularly want to serve detention, nor did I want to needlessly risk my life in facing Voldemort for minimal gain.

So, I decided that I wouldn't visit Hagrid after hours, not even if he asked me to.

“A vision?” Hermione’s hushed question brought me out of my thoughts.

I leaned close to her to whisper.

“Not here. Tell you later.”

And sure enough, “later” came sooner than I would have preferred.

As I was heading down to the Great Hall for lunch, Hermione had come barrelling down a corridor and snatched my arm and pulled me in another direction. Vaguely confused and entertained, I let her shepherd me into an empty classroom and close the door on us.

“What happened in the study hall this morning?” She demanded.

Hermione was quite fierce sometimes, and I had no doubt in my mind that this trait of hers would only grow with time. But it was difficult to be intimidated by an eleven-year-old girl with her hands at her hips glaring with all the strength it seemed she could muster.

“Hermione,” I started calmly, “I need to tell you a few things.”

I took a seat at one of the dusty desks and beckoned her over to sit with me.

“I did have a vision this morning,” I lied, “But that’s only a sliver of the greater picture here.”

“What do you mean?” She asked as she came to sit.

“Voldemort is going to try to return.” I said bluntly.

Hermione gasped. “What-”

“Let me finish.”

She nodded, still in shock.

“Voldemort has been in the castle for the past year, working through an agent inside the school.” I explained. “At some point near the end of the year, Voldemort and this agent will try to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, an artifact that Dumbledore’s been hiding at Hogwarts.”

Her mouth moved but no sound came out before Hermione cleared her throat.

“I… I have so many questions.” She muttered.

“Ask away.” I said.

My words seemed to have put her out of her momentary daze and Hermione seemed to have taken on the determination that she has in class when she wanted to know more about a spell or a bit of theory. Her brows furrowed as she formulated her questions in her head.

“You know all this because of the _ ‘powers the Dark Lord knows not’ _ , right?” She asked. “They give you visions.”

“Correct.”

“How long have you known all this?” She asked incredulously.

“For a while, a few years now.” I lied.

“So you knew that Voldemort was here the whole time!” She realized. Her face fell as she realized that I had been keeping this potentially highly dangerous threat not only from her, but from everyone who might have been affected by my secret.

“It was necessary to let him, Hermione.” I explained calmly. “I knew he wouldn’t cause any harm until the end of the year. It is essential that we let him fall into a false sense of security.”

“Why?” She asked hopelessly.

“He needs to try to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. Then, I’ll face him, and defeat him.” I replied.

“How?” She asked. “You’re just a kid, Addie, and he’s one of the most powerful Dark Lords in history!”

“My touch will disintegrate him.” I said, very matter-of-factly.

Hermione stutterd to a halt.

“What?”

“He’s staying alive through a risky kind of magic. Long story short, if I touch him, he dies.” I said. “Simple.”

Hermione paused, and stared at me with an unreadable look on her face. I furrowed my brows in confusion as I stared back at her. After a minute or so, I was beginning to wonder if she popped a gear in her brain or something. Did I wait too long to tell her about Voldemort? Was she not going to help me anymore- or, be my “friend”? Did she balk at the prospect of death? My jaw tightened as possibilities of how I’d just screwed up the whole timeline buzzed through my mind and anxiety began to prickle at my fingertips. 

Finally, Hermione heaved a sigh, a look of finality on her face, causing my anxiety to pique. She pursed her lips, then addressed me.

“I’ll help you, Addie.” She said, then, to my complete surprise, came forward and hugged me tightly. 

I patted her back hesitantly.

“Thank you, Hermione, I have you to help and support me. With you, I’ll be able to beat Voldemort.” I said- and found that I actually meant the words.

She pulled back and smiled at me, though, oddly, I could see a hint of something sober in her expression. What had the girl been thinking about? And would it get in my way later on?

“I’ll be there for you forever, Addie.” She said. “I’ll help you defeat Voldemort.”

Neither of us knew it at the time, but that was the most dangerous promise Hermione would make in her lifetime.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Over the course of the next few months, Hermione and I split our time between studying for exams and preparing for the real test of our skills. Although, exams turned out to be rather mild in my opinion. The exams were easy, they were just really long tests with an added essay portion, nothing I hadn’t encountered in regular high school. I think the only reason that the exams were so easy for me was because they were about magic, which was much more engaging than calculus. 

There were practical tests as well as the written exams, of course, those turned out to be slightly more challenging. For Charms, we had to make a pineapple dance across a desk, though for some reason my pineapple incorporated some gymnastics in the form of cartwheels- Flitwick had liked it in the end though. For Transfiguration, it was turning mice into snuffboxes, nothing we already hadn’t done during classes. Potions class was only marginally more difficult because we had to memorize the entire process and procedure to create the Forgetfulness Potion. 

The only thing that truly worried me throughout all this was the slowly growing pain in my head, originating from my lightning scar. I wasn’t sure what exactly it meant, whether Voldemort was weakening and needed the Philosopher’s Stone badly, or was impatient to get to the Stone, or if he was feeling anything at all. 

  
  
  


“Oi, Hermione!” 

Hermione and I both turned back toward whoever had called.

To my surprise, Ron Weasley was running across the courtyard toward us. As he neared, he stopped to catch his breath, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye before addressing Hermione again.

“Did you get that one for the pine needles?” He asked, wide-eyed. “Were we supposed to crush them before the flies or after?”

Hermione didn’t seem surprised that Ron had come up to talk to her.

“Before the flies, I’m sure.” She replied. “To warm the potion, right Addie?”

I shrugged.

“That’s what I memorized.” I said flippantly.

Ron let his shoulders drop and let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Merlin.” He muttered, then glanced at me again.

“Er, and thank you, Hermione… and Adeline.”

I smiled mildly, with a touch of my regular sarcasm.

“Of course, Ron.” Hermione smiled.

Ron quickly excused himself and ran back to a group of Gryffindor boys across the courtyard.

“Since when are you and Weasley so chummy?” I asked, eyes still trained on the boys.

“Oh, I don’t quite know when this came about.” Hermione said. There was  _ something _ in her tone, but I couldn’t decipher what. Surely she and Ron didn’t already have feelings for each other at this point in the series? Maybe I was missing something.

Whatever it was, I decided to drop it.

I pulled Hermione through the corridors and down to a less populated area of the school. It had become quite sunny and warm in the summer months and most people were lounging around after exams, basking in the nice weather. Conveniently for Hermione and I, it made for a relatively empty school.

“We need to make a move.” I said without preamble. “Soon.”

“You mean-” Hermione cut herself off and looked around the empty halls. “For the Stone?”

“Yeah, I don’t know the exact date but-”

I froze as I suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps nearing. Hermione and I both stepped back and looked down the hall, trying to see who was coming.

“Good afternoon.” 

I will admit, both Hermione and I jumped. We whipped around to see Professor Snape looming over us, with a rather odd expression. I also probably stared at Snape for longer than what was polite… or safe, since he was a Legilimens.

“Now what would two young girls such as yourselves be doing inside… on a day like this?” Snape asked smoothly as though Hermione and I weren’t staring at him in abject terror.

The question immediately set off alarm bells in my head.

“Shit.” 

It slipped out.

Honestly, I really didn’t mean to swear in front of Snape.

You would too if you realized what you were about to have to do.

But still…

Goddamn, could that man look scary.

Seriously, once that single syllable fell from my lips, Snape’s eyes narrowed into slits and I immediately felt the full force of his anger from his gaze alone.

“What did you just say?” He asked, any airs of vague amusement gone.

“I… I didn’t-” I stuttered, at a complete loss for words as I stared into his eyes.

At that moment, I remembered he was a Legilimens.

Although, looking directly upward at the ceiling while continuing my stuttering was probably the exact wrong thing to do if I wanted to avoid any suspicion.

“-I uhhhhhmmm-”

“Detention, Potter.” Snape interrupted. “And twenty points from Ravenclaw to match.”

I pursed my lips in vague annoyance, but I didn’t say anything as Snape strode away.

When she was sure he was gone, Hermione whipped around.

“Addie! What did you just do?” She whisper-yelled at me.

I sighed.

“It’s tonight.”

“...Shit”

  
  
  
  


The first thing I did was not to make a plan for tonight, but to immediately go to McGonagall’s class. Hermione followed behind me as I strode quickly through the halls, but I was too much in my own head to really acknowledge her or her questions. McGonagall was in her classroom, grading papers at her desk. I quickly walked up to her and spoke bluntly.

“Is Dumbledore away?” 

McGonagall looked up from her papers in confusion.

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“The Headmaster, has he been called to the Ministry?” I clarified.

McGonagall’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, he was… Miss Potter, how are you aware of this?” She asked.

“That doesn’t matter.” I replied. “Voldemort’s making a bid for the Stone, make sure to get Dumbledore down there when he gets back.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened in shock, this was the most I’ve seen her emote since I got here.

“Wh- Potter, I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”

I barked out a laugh at that.

“That what Dumbledore tell you?” I asked rhetorically, then started counting on my fingers. “Cerberus, Devil’s Snare, flying keys-” 

McGonagall’s expression grew more and more panicked as I went on. 

“-Chess set, troll, riddle... Eureka!”

I plastered on a false smile at the  _ ‘Eureka’ _ .

As I finished listing, McGonagall glanced worriedly at Hermione before addressing me again.

“Miss Potter!” She spluttered. “How do you know of all this?”

“What, Dumbledore didn’t tell you?” I asked blandly. “Y’know Professor, you’re gonna have to get more in the loop if you wanna survive the war.”

I jumped my brows up to accentuate my sarcastic warning.

“W-war?” McGonagall echoed.

“‘Fraid so.” I nodded in mock sympathy. 

I turned back around and motioned for a stunned Hermione to follow me out.

“Wait- Potter!” McGonagall cried behind me.

“Tell Dumbledore!” Was my only response as I walked out.

  
  
  


I ignored Hermione as we walked back.

“Addie! What did you mean about the war? Why did you tell McGonagall what we’re doing? Addeline!”

“It’s all going to be fine Hermione, I was just trying to scare her.” I said calmly. “Besides, Dumbledore is going to show up anyway, and the sooner the better in my opinion.”

“I thought we were on our own for this?” She asked.

“Not necessarily.” I replied. “You won’t even face Voldemort with me in the end, there will only be a chance for one of us to continue through one of the rooms. I just need to talk to Voldemort for a moment then Dumbledore can come in if he wants to.”

“Addie!” Hermione interrupted angrily. “I can’t believe how you’re treating this so… with- with  _ humour _ ! Do you not feel any worry at all?”

I rounded on her.

“Of course I do!” I countered firmly. “But it’s either panic, or I can tackle this from another angle, one that people won’t expect.” 

I pulled back away from her.

“Everything is part of the greater plan, Hermione.”

  
  
  


In the end, Hermione agreed to follow me down the trapdoor like we’d planned earlier on in the year. The only stipulation that she’d had was that there would be no more surprises from my part. I agreed to her demand, knowing that I’d soon break it once we got down there; I still had many things that I had not told Hermione about the danger we were about to fall into.

Sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room was easy, seeing as I had my Invisibility Cloak with me. I had told Hermione to open the portrait door to the Gryffindor common room at exactly midnight, and that I’d be there to shield us from the prying eyes of the portraits on the walls. Because we were little girls (only in body, in my case), the Cloak fit us both comfortably underneath it with room to spare. 

We moved silently through the halls like a well-oiled machine, only communicating in hand gestures and quiet whispers if necessary. By this point, we both knew the corridors of Hogwarts well enough to navigate our way from the Gryffindor common room to the forbidden room on the third floor, so we forewent the possibility of our capture by staying completely in darkness. With no Lumos spell to light our way, walking was a momentary challenge, but we soon figured out a rhythm.

Arriving at the forbidden door, Hermione casted an Alohomora while I stood guard. As the door opened, I immediately swept in and pulled my carved flute that I’d gotten from Hagrid for Christmas and started to play. 

“The harp is here, you don’t have to.” Hermione whispered quietly behind me.

I lowered the flute at her words and looked to where she was pointing. At the far side of the room, just beyond the sleeping three-headed dog, was the harp that Quirrell had left, magically playing a haunting lullaby on its own.

“Okay,” I replied, moving quickly to the three-headed dog, “We need to move quickly. Tell me when you hear the music stop playing.”

Hermione nodded and followed my lead. We approached the sleeping Cerberus carefully, neither of us completely trusting its slumber. In person, Fluffy looked absolutely terrifying, and nothing like he had in the movie. Three monstrous heads were rested on the ground and two of the beast’s mouths lolled open, revealing huge yellow teeth fit for snapping the bones of any intruder. Thankfully, I didn’t see its eyes, any six of them. As we neared, I noticed that the trapdoor was right under one of the Cerberus’ giant paws. 

“Move its paw with me.” I muttered.

We bent down and began shifting the Cerberus’ paw out of the way of the trapdoor, keeping close eyes on the beast in ase it would start to awaken. The three-headed dog twitched and sniffed, we froze, staring at it and ready to make a break for the door. After a moment, the dog yawned, eyes still shut, and fell back into a deep sleep. I checked the harp reflexively, it was still playing. One of the Cerberus’ claws caught on the latch of the trapdoor at one point, but the paw was successfully moved out of the way. 

I glanced at the harp again.

“What should we do with your Cloak?” Hermione whispered.

That was something that I hadn’t thought about. The Cloak was quite big and wouldn’t really fit in any of my pockets, since I had left my outer robes in the common room. I also didn’t want to bring it down through any of the trials for fear it would be damaged, and I wouldn’t really have any use for it anyway.

I sighed.

“I’ll leave it outside the door.” I whispered back.

I knew that Dumbledore would be coming after us at some point, so maybe he’d see the Cloak and grab it for me. As I moved across the room, Hermione’s panicked hiss stopped me.

“The harp!”

Immediately, I pulled the flute back out and began to play a nonsensical tune. I turned slowly as I played to see the Cerberus shift in its sleep. Hermione and I found each other’s eyes and shared mutually panicked and relieved expressions. I motioned to the Cloak with my head and Hermione quickly grabbed it and put it outside the door for me. We crept back into the room and stood before the trapdoor. I nodded at Hermione to tell her to open the door. 

Once it was open, I pulled the flute from my mouth to quickly say- “Jump in.” -and continued to play before Fluffy could wake.

Hermione gave me a minutely panicked look before steeling herself and looking down into the inky blackness of the trapdoor. I heard her take a slow, deep breath in before jumping clean down though the opening. I momentarily commended her for staying mostly quiet, save for a quiet, but cut off shriek as she fell. 

Without letting myself think about it, I jumped down to follow her.

My only reaction was a gasp as I fell through open air, further than I had thought I would. Then suddenly, the breath was knocked out of me as I landed on something organic, something alive. The Devil’s Snare.

“Lumos.” I hissed, still mindful of the Cerberus above us.

The light from my wand lit the room. The walls were dark stone, and there was mould creeping up along them as far as the eye could see in the dim. The Devil’s Snare covered the whole of the floor of the room, and probably went quite further beneath us. I could see Hermione just a few feet away from me, trying to keep as still as possible. I guess she’d already noticed what we were sitting in.

I looked down at myself to see the creepers hesitantly curling around me, clearly weakened by my wandlight.

“Cast a light.” I called to Hermione, who quickly did so.

“Devil’s Snare!” She called back.

“I know.” I said. “But do you see a door anywhere?”

In the book, there had been a door off to the side that Harry had gone through after the Devil’s Snare had been taken care of. Although in the movie, Harry had had to let himself be overtaken by the Devil’s Snare to fall through to a level below the plant. This was a tricky situation, because letting myself be taken by the Devil’s Snare could either mean my death or my salvation.

Hermione and I looked around frantically for a door as the Devil’s Snare continued wrapping around us. 

“I don’t see one!” Hermione cried, panicked.

“It’ll be fine.” I reassured her, then just decided to screw it. “On the count of three, cast the Lumos Solem spell.”

“Of course! Devil’s Snare hates sunlight!” She said happily.

“Ready?” I called, making myself ignore that Hermione had unknowingly quoted herself.

“Yes!”

“One…”

“Two…”

Three!”

Together, we aimed our wands at the monstrous plant and yelled.

“LUMOS SOLEM!”

Bright, piercing bursts of light shot from our wands into the Devil’s Snare around us. Immediately, the Devil’s Snare began to shrink back and curl in on itself as the magicked sunlight from our wands made it shrivel. With the plant supporting us quickly curling back, Hermione and I fell through layers upon layers of the Devil’s Snare, going down further beneath the school.

Suddenly, we were once again in a freefall as we hit the open air.

“Arresto Momentum!” I shrieked quickly.

Our fall was stopped in midair just a metre above the ground. Before we could blink, whatever magical forces that had been holding Hermione and I suspended let us go, and we fell the remaining distance onto an uneven stone ground. Even from the short distance, the landing still hurt.

“What was that spell?” Hermione asked breathlessly as we stood.

“Arresto Momentum.” I repeated wryly. “...Just popped into my head.”

“Very effective.” She said.

I laughed breathlessly as I looked around for a door. I recast the Lumos spell to give us some light and shone it around myself like a flashlight.

“There.” I pointed to the door when I spotted it.

The door opened to a deep stone tunnel whose end we couldn’t see when we looked down it. Without a word, I marched into the tunnel and began walking, Hermione following close behind me. As we walked on over the unevenly cut ground, a faint ringing sound began to emerge from the dark.

“Do you hear that?” Hermione whispered. “It sounds like…”

“Wings.” I replied. “It’s the flying keys.”

The sound of metallic wings grew to a cacophony as we found the door to the next trial. 

This room was much like the Devil’s Snare room, except without the mould and the killer plant. The same rough stone made up the walls and there was nothing except for the flock of keys buzzing around the ceiling, a broom levitating a metre above the ground, and a heavy wooden door standing opposite us.

I immediately walked across the room to the door, but Hermioe took a more sedated pace, gazing upward at the keys flying about all above us. I pulled on the latch of the door, even knowing that it wouldn’t budge. Hearing the door  _ clang _ as I pulled on it, Hermione made her way over to the door beside me. She quickly pointed her wand at it and cast:

“Alohomora!”

“Nope.” I said as the door shook from her spell. “Doesn’t work.”

Hermione looked upward at the keys again.

“How do we know which one opens the door? There must be a thousand keys up there.” She asked.

“There’s exactly one bronze key in all these silver ones.” I said, squinting up at the keys with Hermione. “It matches the handle on the door.”

Just then, a thought popped into my head.

I pointed my wand up toward the flock of flying keys and said, “Accio bronze key.”

As I spoke, the bronze key appeared out of the flock, zooming toward me. I grinned as I jumped and sntched it out of the air. Although, my grin slid from my face when the buzzing of the keys seemed to grow, I looked up and all the other keys were diving toward me. 

“Unlock the door, Addie!” Hermione cried.

I whipped around and jammed the key into the lock, twisting it desperately. The lock disengaged just as the keys came upon us. The keys didn’t change their course, they barrelled into us on razor sharp wings. Hermione was saved from most of it, since the keys were after me because I held the bronze key. 

As I fought to open the door and usher Hermione inside, the keys swarmed, their wings cutting into my skin as they flew around me furiously. I threw my arms over my face to shield from them. I faintly felt Hermione pulling me through the door after her, but didn’t realize that she had saved me until she slammed the door behind us.

I made the mistake of looking up, thinking the danger gone, and a straggling key sliced a bloody line across the bridge of my nose. I hissed in pain and flailed my arms at it, realizing that about a few dozen keys had followed us through the door. I ducked and tried to run as the keys swarmed me again. I turned back around to the keys and brandished my wands at them, wracking my brain for a spell to use. Before I could speak, the keys were upon me again and I had to move, running further into the next trial room. 

“You need to immobilize them!” Hermione cried after me, similarly waving her wand.

At her words, I stopped short and whipped around.

“Immobulus!” I cried.

The keys were caught in the firing range of my spell and were immediately struck frozen in the air, their wings seemingly caught in slow motion before stopping completely. I let my arm drop and sighed in relief.

“Good one.” Hermione breathed as she caught up to me. 

She took a step back to look around the vast chamber in awe.

“Let’s play some chess, Addie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no writing was completed this week- got absolutely shitfaced over the weekend at a party and, for a moment, I'd begun to accept that I'd lost my literacy with all the brain cells I'd slaughtered. Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming!


	11. The Man Who Would Be Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gripping finale down in the passage beyond the third floor... posted a week late. Will Adeline survive? I sure hope so, otherwise I'd have nothing else to write!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm sorry for skipping last week's update. I've been busy with end-of-summer parties and getting hammered every other day and highkey forgot to update last week. Now that school is starting up for me again, I may not be updating as often- but I won't outright abandon this fic. I already have up to the end of year 2 prewritten if anyone was wondering.

The chamber was larger than the other two combined, and sitting right in the centre and taking up most of the floor space was a giant chessboard. Closest to Hermione and I were the back pieces, sculpted from deep obsidian, standing with their backs to us. Beyond them, I could make out an army of pieces facing the black chessmen and identical in every way, but were carven marble. The pieces themselves towered over us at possibly fifteen feet at the tallest.

Hermione followed me as I wandered around the board, eyeing the pieces carefully. I noticed that there were two spaces empty on the black side of the board, how convenient. Closer to the white pieces and with a different vantage point, I could spot another heavy wooden door behind the white chessmen.

“The door.” Hermione gave voice to my thoughts.

“We have to play our way across the board to get to it.” I muttered, now eyeing the massive sword that was slung across the back of one of the white pieces.

Hermione was silent for a moment.

“Well this is what we’ve been practising for, isn’t it?” She said confidently.

I turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

She stared back at me with more conviction than I felt. “Let’s get going then.”

I glanced back at the empty spaces on the chessboard and nodded.

“Okay, you take the empty square at the corner, the queen’s side castle.” I pointed. “And I’ll be the king’s side knight.”

Hermione and I had practised chess nonstop for about three months leading up to now, but this trial was much different. Playing as a piece in the game, neither of us could look down at the board like a regular game of chess, which complicated things. Throughout the game, Hermione’d had to interrupt me in directing some moves because I hadn’t seen an enemy piece laying in wait. I was reluctant to use myself or Hermione as pieces in manoeuvres out of fear that we’d be killed if I made a mistake, so I had to try to plan with two pieces out of the count from the start. Coupled with the threat of my own imminent death and the threats beyond this trial, this game was going poorly. 

I breathed a heavy breath through my nose in frustration. I needed to think of something, some kind of contingency plan for when (not if) we lost, because we couldn’t just sit back and let Quirrell leave the school alive.

“Hermione, I’m going to move you closer to their end, and when I blow something up, you run like hell to the door.” I muttered. “Use  _ Alohomora _ if it’s locked.”

Hermione nodded, her face pale with fear.

The game played on, I was losing pieces faster than ever. I really should have just said ‘screw it’ and asked Ron Weasley to come along to make this easier. I eventually managed to get Hermione into a corner spot on the other side of the board, just a few feet away from the door. I got myself into position near the opposite side so that the pieces would have to split up when we would make a run for it. I took a deep breath and watched warily as one of my pawns slid into place. Just as the enemy knight began to move, I aimed my wand at the middle of the enemy pieces and yelled:

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!”

The effect was beautiful, and I would have taken more time to admire my work had I not been in the face of mortal danger. Chunks of white marble flew everywhere, soaring outward from the point of my blast that had originated from the King piece. At once, Hermione made a run for it, and I only began to sprint across the board when I saw her slam the door behind her. 

It turned out that those pieces could move faster than they had been during the game, I saw the Queen barrelling down the board toward me, sword drawn. I whipped my gaze from her back to the door and realized that the Queen would intercept me before I would reach my freedom. Thinking fast, I made a beeline toward the enemy Knight, who had also turned to charge at me. 

So there I was, sprinting toward the white Knight as he faced me down on horseback, not noticing the equally furious white Queen in my pursuit. My head pounded as I neared the Knight and I steeled myself as I looked for my opening. I was ten metres away. Five metres away. Two metres away.

I turned on my heel so fast that I had to slam my hand down onto the marble chess board so that I didn't wipe out onto the ground. It was as though everything had turned into slow motion. As I turned, I saw the Queen coming up and swing her sword wildly, surprised by my sudden change in direction. Still caught in my own momentum, I belatedly pulled my arm up in a weak effort to shield myself as her sword came down. Simultaneously, the Knight wasn’t quick enough to follow my pivot and only managed a wide turn as his horse careened into the Queen’s side. 

I felt a searing line of fire lash across my back and upper arm in that split second, then a thunderous  _ shatter _ of marble. I didn’t let myself turn back and look at the damage that I had left in my wake, I only kept running to the door and I didn’t stop running until I was on the other side.

I collapsed to the floor of the next chamber as Hermione slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind me. I heaved in great breaths of air as I lay slumped on the floor, only managing to hoarsely say:

“Lock the door...  _ Colloportus _ .”

I heard Hermione’s quick repetition of the spell and the clunking of the lock engaging, closing us away from the animated chess pieces.

My head was buzzing, and I was pretty sure my vision was spotting out at that point, but my faculties weren’t really in place to properly give myself a sound diagnostic. I looked around the chamber faintly in confusion. I spotted the corpse of a dead troll on the far side of the chamber and I was less confused. This was Quirrell’s chamber, the one before Snape’s with the riddles. We were almost there.

Suddenly, Hermione gasped.

My head lolled around to glance at her.

“What now?” I asked tiredly.

“Addie! You’re bleeding!” She cried and ran straight to me.

“Oh. Right.” 

The Queen had gotten me with her sword. Now, she hadn’t skewered me entirely, but the end of her blade did nick me- and a nick from a two-metre long sword to an eleven-year-old was nothing to sniff at.

I had gotten a long slash across my upper right arm from where I had pulled it up in defense. The gash line continued across my right side all the way to my lower back. My shirt was soaked with blood, and Hermione was hovering over it anxiously, not knowing what to do.

I tried desperately not to think about the pain, and to stay in the buzzing fuzziness of my adrenaline high.

“Cast the spell  _ Ferula _ .” I muttered.

At Hermione’s incantation, bandages flew out of her wand and wrapped the gashes tightly, drawing a slight grunt of pain from me.

“Oh, Addie.” she said worriedly. “I don’t think bandages will be enough. Do you have another spell?”

“Umm,” I wracked my brain for any healing spells, “Try  _ Episkey _ .”

“ _ Episkey _ .” Hermione cast.

I felt some pain let up, but I knew that most of the damage hadn’t gone.

“How was that?” Hermione asked.

“Better now.” I lied. “Help me up.”

Hermione grabbed my good arm and pulled me up to my feet.

“This room’s been taken care of, I think.” She said, getting back to business. “The troll must have been the trial for this one.”

“Yeah.” I breathed, trying to get my vision to stop spinning. “Quirrell already took care of it.”

“Quirrell?” Hermione cried.

“Shit, sorry.” I muttered. “Quirrell’s the agent, by the way.”

Hermione sighed, though her expression betrayed her anger at me. “I suppose that doesn’t matter now. Come on Addie, it’s the riddle next isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’ll figure it out.” I replied, my voice getting stronger.

We hobbled across the chamber as quickly as we could and entered the next chamber. The room was made up of black stone along the walls, ceiling, and floor. The only light sources were a few torches scattered along the walls. The chamber was bare save for a table in the middle with seven differently shaped bottles in a line. As we stepped over the threshold of the chamber, purple flames sprung up in front of the door that they had just come through and black flames shot up in front of the door on the other side of the chamber. We were trapped.

“Read the paper on the table.” I muttered.

Hermione left my side and I sat down on the ground, with her support gone.

“It’s a riddle, like you said.” Hermione announced after a moment.

“Read it out loud.” I called back.

_ "Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, _

_ Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, _

_ One among us seven will let you move ahead, _

_ Another will transport the drinker back instead, _

_ Two among our number hold only nettle wine, _

_ Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. _

_ Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, _

_ To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: _

_ First, however slyly the poison tries to hide _

_ You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; _

_ Second, different are those who stand at either end, _

_ But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; _

_ Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, _

_ Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; _

_ Fourth, the second left and the second on the right _

_ Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.” _

I slowly processed the words as Hermione read the riddle out to me. I faintly worried that I may have been losing blood too quickly for my critical thinking to be so delayed as it was then. I soon gave up on trying to riddle it out and just groaned out loud.

“Brilliant,” I could hear Hermione talking to herself, “This isn’t magic- it’s logic- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ages.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Hermione muttered to herself over and over as she paced in front of the table. About a minute later, she suddenly clapped her hands together.

“I’ve got it!” She cried.

“Great.” I said blandly. “Give me the one to go forward.”

“But Addie-” 

“You should just stay here, but you know which potion’ll take you back if you want to.” I continued. “But I’m hesitant to let you go back to the chess chamber in case the pieces still want to murder us.”

“Addie!” Hermione interrupted.

“What?” I looked up at her from the floor.

“You can’t seriously think you’re going to face Quirrell like that, do you?” She asked.

I heaved a sigh.

“Hermione, here’s the deal-” I paused, trying to find the right words to convince her, then quickly gave up as my shoulder throbbed angrily. “Okay, ugh, it doesn’t matter right now, alright? I still need to do it.” 

I pulled myself up off the floor, walked up to Hermione and the table, swaying slightly in place, and held out a hand.

“Potion. Now, please.” I asked.

Hermione held my gaze warily before sighing and grabbing a small glass vial from the table which held a sky-blue potion inside.

“Even if you gave me the wrong one, I’ll still go through the black fire out of spite.” I warned her flatly.

“I guessed you would.” She replied equally flatly.

As I reached for the potion, Hermione suddenly caught me in a bone-crushing hug. I breathed out a laugh and simultaneously stifled a grunt of pain as I hugged her back. I winced at Hermione with a bit of guilt as I realized just how much this girl had sacrificed for me already. 

Still keeping her gaze, I took the potion from Hermione and downed it as though I was doing a shot. I was suddenly filled with the sensation of ice flooding my body. I walked to the black flames and turned to speak to Hermione.

“Dumbledore will be here eventually, I’ll be fine.”

Hermione nodded back tearfully.

“Good luck.” She said.

I nodded back before stepping through the flames and through the door. 

Just as I found myself in a long corridor beyond the door, my lightning scar began to quietly throb with pain. I took the pain as a sign that Voldemort was still here. 

I crept down the corridor, lighting a dim light with my wand. The walls were different than those of the other trial chambers, the stone here was sandy and lighter in colour. I walked down the corridor, mindful of my injuries, but bracing myself for another fight. To my detriment, no matter how softly or slowly I tried to walk, I could still hear my footsteps echoing around me. I’d have to forego the possibility of having the element of surprise. 

The corridor soon opened up to a large chamber, with stairs that led to a lowered level. The chamber was lit brightly by walls of fire on each side and in the centre with his back to me, was Quirrell, staring intently at the Mirror of Erised. I stopped at the top step and stared warily at Quirrell’s back, wincing at the building pain in my lightning scar.

Quirrell either saw me in the Mirror’s reflection or sensed my presence, because he turned to face me before I made another sound. I didn’t speak first, I only held his gaze through eyes lidded in pain, both from my injuries and from my scar.

“You’ve been injured.” Quirrell observed.

I snorted quietly.

“I’m shit at chess.” I replied flatly.

Quirrell smirked wryly in response, and I took that as a good sign to start walking down the steps into the chamber. He tilted his head and seemed to examine me, notably my utter lack of surprise at his presence here.

“What gave me away?” He asked bluntly. He was still smirking though, the bastard thought he had the upper hand. I was content to let him continue to think that.

“Nothing.” I replied, casually glancing at the Mirror of Erised and breaking eye contact as I remembered that Legilimency existed. “You could say I have a… sixth sense for evil bastards.” 

“Watch your tongue, Potter.” Quirrell’s voice turned cold.

“Please.” I muttered sarcastically, then raised my voice. “If you must know, creeping around the castle at night doesn’t really help your case… For future reference.”

“Ah, but who was it that caught me, Potter?” He countered. “Someone being equally suspicious, if not more with an Invisibility Cloak.”

“I’m a kid, we have license to snoop.” I replied.

Quirrell scoffed, and turned back around to the Mirror of Erised, clearly tired with meaningless banter. But this move also told me something; the fact that Quirrell felt comfortable enough to turn his back on me (albeit not quite because of the Mirror), revealed that he didn’t think me to be much of a threat, so much so that he didn’t even bother to try to bind me with magic.

“Now, Potter,” Quirrell said suddenly, “Since you like to think yourself so clever, tell me, what does this mirror do?”

I fought the urge to rub my forehead reflexively as Quirrell inadvertently turned Voldemort toward me as he gazed at the Mirror.

“I see what I desire,” Quirrell continued, “I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?”

As he spoke, I slowly walked closer to Quirrell. I just needed to keep him talking until I could touch him, and subsequently kill him.

“Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… But he’s in London… I’ll be far away by the time he gets back…”

_ That’s what you think. _

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

“I don’t understand- is the Stone inside the Mirror? Should I break it?”

Then suddenly, a hoarse, echoey voice rang out through the chamber.

_ “Use the girl.” _

At Voldemort’s instance, Quirrell whipped around and, finding me to be only a few feet from him, reached out and grabbed me. Fighting the instinct to flee, I let Quirrell snatch the front of my shirt and he hauled me over to stand in front of the Mirror.

“Tell me, Potter, what do you see?” Quirrell hissed.

There was a long pause as I looked into the Mirror of Erised. At first, I could only see my reflection. Then, it began to move on its own.

_ Shit,  _ I thought.  _ Wait, wait, I plan on using the Stone for myself. I’m going to use the Stone for my own gain! _

Whatever magic that was cast on the Mirror must have been able to sense the true intentions of the person who looked into it, because my reflection didn’t stop at my frantic mental yelling, it only grinned at me. Defeated in my charade attempt, I watched as my reflection reached down into the pocket of her uniform pants and pulled out a roughly cut, blood red stone. It winked at me, then put the Philosopher’s Stone back into her pocket. Sure enough, as my reflection put the Stone in her pocket, I felt a sudden weight drop into my own.

I made no move to acknowledge the Stone.

“What is it!” Quirrell demanded. “What do you see!”

I blinked, trying to come up with a lie and finding my mind blank.

“I see a boy…” I said hesitantly.

“What boy?” Quirrell hissed.

“He’s- he’s…” I stuttered. “He’s holding a ring.”

_ Yeah, super believable, Madeline, goddamn Frodo is the answer to all your problems. _

  
  
  
  


Silence rang out after I spoke. I was silent because I was doing the running commentary as seen above. Quirrell was probably silent because he was confused and my answer made absolutely no sense. And Voldemort- Well, I didn’t even want to try to guess what Voldemort was thinking at that point.

“Tell the truth.” Quirrell hissed. “What do you see?”

I stayed silent, staring at my reflection in the Mirror.

_ “Let me speak to her…” _ Voldemort’s voice echoed.

“But master,” Quirrell begged, turning his gaze from me to a point in the middle distance, “You are not strong enough.”

_ “I have strength enough… For thissss…” _ The whispery voice drew out the ‘s’ to reverberate throughout the vast chamber.

I backed up quickly in panic, putting distance between myself and Voldemort. 

I watched mutely as Quirrell began to unwrap his turban and did nothing as it fell away from his head. Quirrell turned his back to me, and revealed the face I’d been most dreading to see again.

Voldemort was more snakelike than I remembered, but I recognized him nonetheless. His skin was chalk-white like I recalled, and the same piercing ruby-red eyes held my gaze. His pupils were slitted, like a snake’s or a cat’s, which unsettled me more than I thought it would. Though now Voldemort resembled his movie counterpart in that his nose was now flat against his face with slits for nostrils. 

My breath caught in my throat as I came face to face with the man who had killed James and Lily Potter, ten years after the fact.

Voldemort hissed a raspy laugh as he observed me. 

“Adeline Potter.”

I gritted my teeth. My breath came in sharp bursts through my nose as I tried to keep calm.

“We meet again, child.” Voldemort hissed. 

“Lord Voldemort.” I replied in a surprisingly steady voice.

“Yessssssssss.” That long, drawn out hiss returned, so much so that I thought momentarily that Voldemort would lapse into parseltongue. “You see what I’ve become? What I must do to survive? Live off another… A mere  _ parasite _ … Unicorn blood can sustain me… Though it cannot give me a body of my own…”

Voldemort’s monologue had become a buzz in my ears, I could only stare mutely as he spoke. But his next words snapped me back to the present.

“But there is something that can-”

“The Philosopher's Stone.” I interrupted.

Voldemort’s lips thinned in irritation, but he didn’t show it otherwise.

“Clever girl…” He crooned. “That’s not all the Philosopher’s Stone can do… Would you like to see your parents again? Join me, Adeline… and together, we can bring back James and Lily Potter…”

I shook my head, still mindful not to look into Voldemort’s eyes.

“You’re lying, cheating death is impossible.” I couldn’t help but reply.

Voldemort laughed, high and piercing throughout the chamber.

“Adeline, I am Lord Voldemort… And Lord Voldemort can perform magics beyond that of any ordinary wizard…” He said.

I was tempted to say:  _ What, like Horcruxes? _ But I do have some modicum of self-preservation.

“...But I require the Stone, Adeline…” Voldemort continued. “...The Stone which so happens to be  _ in your pocket!” _

My eyes widened as his voice rose into a furious shriek which sent my ears ringing.

I stepped back, frightened and wanting to run, but Quirrell would only conjure a wall of fire in my way if I did. I needed to kill Quirrell anyway, that was why I even came down to face him and Voldemort at all. I  _ had _ to kill him, to keep the timeline secure.

Wide-eyed and practically vibrating in a mixture of panic and adrenaline, I stepped forward toward Voldemort. One foot in front of the other, that was all I thought about as I neared him. He revealed himself to be able to still read my mind even though I hadn’t been making eye contact with him, I couldn’t reveal my plans now, right before the end.

“Yesssssss,” He hissed, “Smart girl, Adeline… Come to Lord Voldemort… Come and give me the Stone…”

I was only a metre away. Quirrell turned back around to face me, and held out his hand for the Philosopher’s Stone. I slowly dragged my gaze up from the man’s hand to his face, and stared.

This was it. Now or never.

I vaguely registered the look of confusion on Quirrell’s face as I stared at him for longer than what would have been considered to be normal. Then, I leapt forward, and grabbed his face in my hands.

It was almost instant. The second skin on skin contact was made, Quirrell suddenly screamed in agony. Upon contact, I felt a lancing pain through my scar to match. Under my hands, Quirrell’s skin blistered and cracked, and it spread to the rest of his face. Quirrell quickly tried to pull back away from me but I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down further, keeping my torturous pressure on him.

The burning in my scar and Quirrell’s screams deafened me as he flailed in my grasp. Though faintly I could hear furious cries somewhere in the distance, that I couldn’t interpret in the chaos of the moment. As I kept my grip on Quirrell, he seemed to remember that he had a wand, and rushed to draw it from his robes. I fumbled to avoid it, but only managed to grab Quirrell’s hand with my own in panic. 

I felt a sudden sharp pain in my side, before numbness. In haste, I pulled my hand back up, not to Quirrell’s face, but to his neck. My vision blurred as I wrapped my hands around Quirrell’s neck and squeezed. I suddenly felt something solid come up to hit me in the side. My head flared with pain, only adding to the pain in my scar, as something struck it. Though I held my grip.

Suddenly, I was no longer holding onto Quirrell. In my haze of pain and confusion, I reached out for him, the mission to end his life was the one singular thought still clear in my mind. 

There was dust all over me, like ash. The ash was everywhere, on my face, my clothes, in my mouth. I tried to bring my hand up to my face, but it felt as though I was submerged in water- it was hard to move. 

I was laying on the flagstones of the chamber. It was cold.

Wasn’t there supposed to have been fire?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Colours.

Sounds.

I barely registered what came next. There were lights, that I was sure of. Of course, lights could mean any number of things, even more so when one lived in a world of magic.

Though the light that woke me, of which I was sure, was sunlight.

It was bright. Someone must have left the curtains open. I slowly came to consciousness as the light fought to breach my eyelids. I clenched them tight against the light, groaning quietly in pain. Just as I managed to turn my head away from the light with great difficulty, I heard a voice.

“Let me get that for you, my dear.”

At once, the world behind my closed eyelids dimmed. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes, blinking a few times. Everything was blurry and I squinted, trying to see. It was dark now, I could only make out a few shapes in the dim.

“Here.” 

I turned instinctively toward the voice, but was taken by surprise as cold metal slid up my nose. I reached up reflexively to grab whatever it was and realized that it was my glasses. I quickly adjusted them on my nose and looked up. 

“Professor Dumbledore?” I muttered in surprise.

I looked around again, then realized that I was in the hospital wing.

I breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. I had survived my confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort, and they hadn’t gotten the Stone. I had successfully accomplished my mission to kill Quirrell, and had kept the timeline of events on track.

I glanced back at Dumbledore, who was looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I said.

“I said,” Dumbledore replied, emphasizing his words, “Good afternoon, Adeline.”

“Good afternoon.” I said, sitting up to lean against the metal backboard of the hospital bed.

Dumbledore swept his arm out to motion to my left.

“Tokens,” He said happily, “From your friends and admirers.”

I turned, and at a table to my left were a couple dozens of cards, flowers, and chocolates piled on top of it.

I cleared my throat, looking for something to say.

“Uh, weird.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly. 

“What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, I’m afraid, felt it might not be very hygienic, and thus confiscated it.”

A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. 

Before I knew it, I was almost choking on rapid giggles, sounding positively deranged.

“Miss Potter, are you quite alright?” Dumbledore asked, taking a step toward my bedside.

I calmed myself down, biting my tongue, before replying.

“I just killed a man,” I said mirthfully, “And Fred and George sent me a toilet seat.”

I started giggling once more, then threw my head back to look at the ceiling of the hospital wing. My laughing stopped abruptly as I realized what I’d just said.

“No, no, Adeline,” Dumbledore said softly.

I tilted my head to the side to glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Any hint of joviality in Dumbledore had vanished, replaced by what looked to be a strong feeling of pity. Or, at least that’s what I interpreted it as.

“Professor Quirrell’s life was forfeit the very moment he allowed Voldemort to attach himself to Quirrell. I fear that, had Voldemort separated from Quirrell by his own volition, the strain would have resulted in Professor Quirrell’s passing all the same.” Dumbledore said carefully.

I scoffed.

“That argument could be used for any murder.” I said derisively, then took on a mocking tone. “ _ Oh, they were going to die eventually, you only sped that up a little. _ ”

Dumbledore sighed, then simply observed me for a moment.

“Adeline-”

“What?” I interrupted.

Dumbledore paused, then seemed to reexamine what he was going to say.

“Professor Quirrell was a servant of Voldemort, Adeline, and would have aided in Voldemort’s return to power.”

“And my killing him stopped that. I know.” I said. “I didn’t say that I hadn’t planned to.”

Dumbledore drew back in surprise.

“You planned to confront Professor Quirrell?” He asked in shock.

I shrugged. “Someone had to. You were gone and no one believed me about the Stone.”

Then I paused in thought. “Although, it was regrettable to put Hermione in danger.”

“Adeline,” Dumbledore interrupted, an expression of concern crossing his face, “ _ You _ were in danger by going down there, do you not realize how close you were to death when I retrieved you?”

My brow furrowed in confusion.

Dumbledore sighed.

“You had a large cut across your arm and back, Adeline-”

“McGonagall’s chess pieces didn’t like cheating.” I interjected sarcastically.

“-And you were hit by a very strong, very dark curse.” Dumbledore must have gotten used to my interrupting of him.

But his words stopped me.

Dark curse?

Since when?

“How- What?” I stuttered. “When did that happen?”

“I can only assume that Professor Quirrell had dealt it to you.” Dumbledore replied.

Suddenly, I remembered that I had felt a sharp pain in my side during the scuffle. I slowly turned to reach down and lifted up my shirt. All across my right side, was a mess of raw, red skin. Though I was confused, I couldn’t feel anything from it.

“Madam Pomfrey had to expel the corrupted tissue and grow it back.” He explained. “You may not feel any sensation from it because there is a numbing charm currently in effect.”

I looked up sharply at him. “Did you just read my mind?”

Dumbledore looked down and smiled wanly.

“I simply surmised what you may have been thinking, Adeline.” He said sadly. “Do you really have that little trust in me?”

This is a trap this is a trap this is a trap this is a trap this is a trap-

I didn’t respond.

“Adeline, why did you knowingly seek out Professor Quirrell?” Dumbledore asked softly.

I didn’t look at him.

“Why would you ever do something so dangerous?” 

He was quite good at sounding sincere when he wanted to.

“What, like it wasn’t part of your  _ master plan _ ?” I shot back.

I still didn’t look up to see his reaction, but he didn’t reply for a while. Then, I felt the bed dip beside me. I looked up to see that Dumbledore had sat on the side of the bed. I looked at him, but kept my gaze slightly to the left of his eyes.

“Why would you ever think such a thing?” He asked.

I pursed my lips. I couldn’t answer that, not without giving away my greater secrets.

“So Voldemort got away.” I blatantly changed the subject. “That sucks.”

Dumbledore watched me a moment longer, before drawing back and sighing again.

“Indeed he did.” Dumbledore replied. “Though I doubt we’ve seen the last of him. I fear you may have only delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time.”

“Sooner than you think.” I muttered.

“Adeline,” Dumbledore’s voice sharpened, though only a fraction, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

“You already used that line.” I replied. “And that’s worrying me a little.”

Dumbledore tilted his head. 

“How so?”

“Well, a clear memory of when you last said that to a student was to Tom Riddle, right after he committed murder.” I mused.

Dumbledore seemed to freeze beside me. I glanced up to meet his eyes. He seemed genuinely shocked. I savoured the moment.

“Adeline,” Dumbledore said  _ very calmly _ and sounding like he was very near the end of his rope, “What do you know?”

“Quid. Pro. Quo… Headmaster.” I said slowly. “I’ll share my info if you share yours.”

I added before he could reply, “I don’t mean now, of course, but just keep in mind that I want to be informed when the time comes. In return, I’ll keep you in the loop… to the best of my ability.”

“Adeline, I am not your enemy.” Dumbledore said carefully. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so hostile-”

“Dumbledore, come on.” I said incredulously. “You’re the one who shipped me off to the muggles that keep me in a cupboard, right? Somehow I can’t think that you did that out of the goodness of your heart.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

I scoffed. “Come on, it literally said on my Hogwarts letter, to  _ ‘the cupboard under the stairs’ _ .”

Dumbledore fell silent again.

He was probably trying to think of some other lie to tell me. I’m sure he’ll spout some bullshit about destiny or love or some crap.

“I will fix this, Adeline.” He said quietly, looking down at the bed between us.

I drew back. “What?”

“It is becoming increasingly clear to me now that I have erred in my judgement of your handling, and I am sorry for that.” He said. “I hope that, in the future, we will come to an understanding, when all is revealed.”

I stared at Dumbledore in sheer confusion. He looked back up at me sadly and met my gaze. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said there were tears in his eyes. But that couldn’t be possible, Dumbledore was a meddling old wizard, bent on treating the world as his own personal chess game.

I stayed silent as I watched the Headmaster quietly get up from the bed, and walk out of the hospital wing without another word.

  
  
  
  


Later on, Hermione was allowed to visit me after I had kicked up enough of a fuss to Madam Pomfrey.

  
  
  


“So what’s the school saying about me?” I asked blandly, leaning against the backboard again.

“Really? You survive certain death and you ask about the latest gossip?” Hermione replied incredulously.

I shrugged. “Gotta keep on truckin’ through the mud of life, Hermione.”

She sighed in exasperation, then moved to sit in the empty chair beside the bed.

“Well, Professor Dumbledore made an announcement to the whole school, telling them what happened that night.” She explained. “I was still in hospital too, but Ron told me what happened.”

I raised a brow.

“The Headmaster was mostly truthful, from what I can tell, but left out quite a few details.” Hermione continued. “The official story is that Professor Quirrell tried to steal a rare magical artifact from the room on the third floor, but you intercepted him long enough for Professor Dumbledore to come.”

I hummed. “That’s really the bare bones of it, I’ll give him that.”

“But Professor Dumbledore didn’t explain what happened to Quirrell, just that he’s been banished from the grounds and taken care of. What happened down there, Addie?” Hermione asked concernedly.

“I touched him, and he turned to dust.” I said simply.

Just because I recognized that I had committed premeditated murder, didn’t mean that I strictly had to alert Hermione to that fact.

“But how?” Hermione pressed. “What kind of magic did you use?”

I pursed my lips.

“So Voldemort was drinking unicorn blood, right?” I started.

“Right.” Hermione replied.

“So when someone slays a unicorn and drinks its blood, it puts a kind of curse on that person.” I lied. “I don’t know the specifics of it, but I knew that if he touched someone innocent, like a child, then he’d die because of that crime against nature of killing a unicorn.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Wow, I didn’t even know that.” She said, stupefied.

I nodded in reply. 

“It’s a secret of the centaur tribes, I only knew about it because of my…” I trailed off then pointed to my head.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

“I see.”

Then she leaned over and soundly punched my good arm.

“Ow!” I yelped.

“ _ That _ is for risking your life anyway!” She said firmly.

“Geez,” I muttered, “Thanks for that.”

Hermione turned her nose up at me.

“It’s my job to knock some sense into you, seeing as you don’t seem to have one drop.” She said snottily.

Damn, I was glad that I hadn’t ended up killing the girl by accident.


	12. I Know What You Did Last Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addie returns to the Dursley house after her first school year at Hogwarts- it's not very fun. Later on, we meet a new, but familiar face in Diagon Alley!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet with 6907 words!

I was let out of the hospital wing for the year-end feast, thank Christ (although the hospital food was on par with the regular stuff from the feasts). The Great Hall was already full by the time I had arrived, I had been held up my Madam Pomfrey’s fussing. The Hall was decked out in Slytherin’s green and silver, catching my eye. Apparently while I wasn’t paying attention, Slytherin had gathered the most house points and had won the House Cup for its seventh consecutive year in a row.

As I walked further into the Hall, a sudden hush fell over the crowd, then a surge of whispers. I could practically  _ feel _ everyone’s eyes on me, watching me as though they could see my still-healing curse wound under my robes. I huffed an annoyed sigh but otherwise paid the gossip no mind as I made to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

The feast was fine. The food was great. It seemed as though the house elves had outdone themselves with everything- all the dishes were arranged rather intricately. I made idle conversation with my housemates, but strayed from the events on the third floor. Even then, everyone wanted to talk to me, even the older students.

As dessert was served, McGonagall tapped her glass goblet to get everyone’s attention.

Dumbledore was about to speak.

“Another year… gone,” He said, though less cheerful than I would have expected, “And now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. The points stand thus, in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three-hundred-and-twelve points,”

A smattering of applause echoed around the Hall. I glanced over to the Gryffindor table to see most of the lions with matching scowls. Even Hermione looked rather put out.

Then, I suddenly remembered that Dumbledore had rigged it so that Gryffindor had won the House Cup in the end of the first book, for what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had done to defeat Quirrell and Voldemort. But this time, only Hermione and I had gone down to the third floor, and we were in different Houses.

Would Dumbledore even give me points for my actions considering I saw then as premeditated murder?

“In third place, Hufflepuff, with three-hundred-and-fifty-two points,” Dumbledore continued, pausing for the applause again, “In second place, Ravenclaw, with four-hundred-and-twenty-six points. Finally, winning the House Cup, Slytherin, with four-hundred-and-seventy-two points!”

The Slytherins roared and applauded loudly at their victory. I leaned over to see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet against the tabletop wildly. I laughed despite myself.

“Yes, yes, well done Slytherin! Well done!” Dumbledore called through the storm of cheering.

I stared at Dumbledore intently, willing him to just end his speech there.

“Though I do have one other announcement before we may return to our desserts!” Dumbledore announced jovially as the applause died down.

“In consideration for their outstanding courageous actions and defeat of a dangerous wizard who sought to steal from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… would Adeline Potter and Hermione Granger please stand?” 

I met Hermione’s gaze across the tables as we both stood up slowly at our respective benches and faced the Headmaster.

“I present to you both, awards for special services to the school!” He declared.

If it were possible, the applause for Hermione and me topped the applause for Slytherin tenfold, it was deafening. A slow grin made its way across my face as I held Hermione’s gaze. She was overwhelmed with the applause, her face was red as her housemates cheered around her.

“Let us all celebrate Hogwarts’ tremendous students… with our school anthem!” Dumbledore proclaimed happily.

At once, everyone stood to join me and Hermione as we sang.

  
  


“HOGWARTS! HOGWARTS! HOGGY, WARTY, HOGWARTS! TEACH US SOMETHING PLEASE!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It seemed to span an eternity and a split-second, all at once.

  
  


Before I knew it, exam results had been delivered (I was second to only Hermione in our year), wardrobes were emptied, trunks were packed, and we were all sent down to the Hogwarts train station in carriages pulled by thestrals. Of course, no one else could see the thestrals, and I pretended that I couldn’t either.

Though before I could board the Hogwarts Express to take me back to London, I was stopped by a large hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Hagrid smiling down at me. Knowing what was going to happen next, I turned to Hermione.

“Save us a compartment, I’ll be a minute.”

Hermione nodded and continued on, and I turned back to Hagrid.

“Jus’ wanted teh say a quick goodbye teh yeh, Addie.” Hagrid said. “And teh, well, teh give yeh this.”

Hagrid reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a deep red, handbound photo book. The exact photo book that I had seen him give to Harry in the film. It was quite hefty, I noted as Hagrid handed it to me. Sure enough, on the first page, was a moving picture of James and Lily, holding a baby Adeline in their arms and smiling widely to the camera. Every so often, Lily would bring up baby Adeline’s hand and kiss it as James looked at her like he had just fallen in love all over again.

I sniffed suddenly and looked back up at Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid.” I said sincerely.

Sometimes I felt like my being here was a waste. This was somebody else’s life and I was using it to my advantage due to my knowledge of the future. But really, I wasn’t Adeline Potter, Harry Potter, or even truly Madeline Fischer anymore. I wasn’t a real person who could genuinely appreciate Hagrid’s gift- I had no connection to Lily and James Potter other than the fact that I’d lived with them for a year as they were tricked into believing that I was their infant daughter. 

That was the true reason Lily gave her life for me, and that was why Hagrid wanted to give me this photo album- they thought I was someone who didn’t exist. 

Hagrid nodded, a bittersweet smile on his face.

“Now yeh get along there, Addie.” He said. “Or yeh’ll miss yer train.”

I smiled and hugged him, then turned back around to board the train.

  
  
  


I was still feeling emotional as I went to sit beside Hermione in the compartment.

Hermione must have noticed my mood, “It feels strange going home, doesn’t it?”

I smiled wanly at her. “On the contrary, Hermione, I’m not going home.”

  
  


Though my sombre mood soon disappeared once Hermione started talking excitedly about her plans for the summer.

  
  


“...And of course we’ll be writing to each other, right Addie?”

“Of course.” I echoed. “I have Hedwig, so our letters can-”

I cut myself off. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“My letters are going to be intercepted.” I said flatly. 

“Why? How?” She asked, concerned.

I waved her off.

“I’ll update you when we meet next year.” I said. “But regular mail through the post will probably work, it just won’t be as fast as owl post.”

Hermione seemed to be reassured by that, but only a little.

“But what if our letters get stopped in muggle post too?” 

“We have our bracelets.” I said calmly. “If you’re really worried, just say the passphrase and it’ll heat up on my end. I’ll reply and you’ll know I’m fine.”

Hermione nodded. “Right, smart.”

I smiled. “Exactly.”

  
  
  
  
  


It took a while to leave the platform, there was a guard at the brick barrier to the muggle world that only let people out in twos and threes so as to not alert the muggles. Once we were across, I immediately heard:

“There she is mum, I see her!”

“Oh, Ginny, don’t point-”

“Adeline Potter!”

“-That’s rude!”

To my surprise, the Weasleys were out on the muggle side of the platform and looking like they had just met up with the rest of their family. Ron looked up to see me and Hermione and waved at us awkwardly, his face turning red in embarrassment for his little sister. On the contrary, Fred and George perked up and rushed over to me, grabbed my arms, and hauled me over to their mother.

“Mum!” They called at the same time.

“Fred! George! Let the poor girl go!” Mrs Weasley chided.

I cleared my throat as the twins let me go.

“Hello Mrs Weasley.” I said. “Thank you for the sweater.”

Mrs Weasley immediately gave me a big hug, catching me by surprise. I froze as she hugged me tightly, eyes widening in surprise. I stayed rigid until she pulled away.

“Oh of course, dear!” She said happily. “Everyone needs a warm jumper on Christmas.”

I smiled at that.

“Oh,” I said as I remembered that I was with someone. “This is Hermione.”

I looked around and spotted the girl in question behind Fred and George, then pulled her beside me.

“Hello, Mrs Weasley.” Hermione said. “I’m a friend of Ron’s as well.”

Mrs Weasley beamed and turned to Ron. “How lovely!”

Ron only stammered and flushed a darker red at the attention, causing Hermione to snicker.

  
  
  


But the happy tableau was soon broken.

Shattered, really.

“Potter!” 

I turned to see a purple-faced Uncle Vernon looming over me.

“Ready, are you?” He asked, eyeing my very wizardesque robes.

I nodded.

I turned back to Hermione and said goodbye, to which her response was to give me a bone crushing hug.

“Bye Addie.” She whispered.

“Hey, don’t be so sad.” I said. “I’ll see you again soon enough.”

  
  
  


And that was that.

  
  
  
  


Or so I thought.

  
  
  
  


Returning to the Dursleys went about how I expected. They were still all terrified of me, even more so now that I had magical training and was therefore more dangerous in their eyes. 

I had resisted their feeble attempts to confiscate my trunk and books with some difficulty…

  
  


“-and you won’t be even  _ looking _ at these!” Vernon bellowed as he grabbed my trunk from me.

The sudden pull almost took me off my feet because I was still holding onto the trunk. I held fast and pulled back against him.

“Don’t touch my shit!” I snarled as I yanked on the trunk.

Petunia and Dudley watched nervously from the kitchen as Vernon and I tousled in the front hall.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way, girl!” Vernon snapped as he leaned down to get into my face. “There must be order in this house! No more of this freakishness!”

I bared my teeth in a wordless growl in response. “You have no right!”

Suddenly, Vernon let go of the trunk and I fell backward, pulling the trunk onto me accidentally. I grunted as I hit the ground, but moved quickly to get out from under the trunk.

Too quickly, Vernon grabbed me by the front of my robes and pulled me up to face him.

“NO RIGHT? I’VE TAKEN YOU IN AND PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD, YOU LITTLE MONSTER!” He screamed, his face beet red, as he shook me furiously.

Something in my neck twinged as he jostled me, and I cringed at the pain. Unconsciously, my hands came up to pull at him in vain.

“AND NOW YOU PRESUME TO ORDER ME ABOUT?” He continued. “I SHOULD THROW YOU OUT THIS INSTANT!”

As though to emphasize his words, he threw me away from him. I was still too dazed to react as I fell and my hip hit the side of my trunk on my way down to the floor.

I coughed slightly, as I lay on the floor of the hall, sort of staring off into space. A sudden kick to the trunk beside me made me jump, and I snapped up to look at Vernon- my neck twinged more painfully at the sharp movement. I stared up at him, wide-eyed, as he scrutinized me in turn. His jaw flexed, as though he was grinding his teeth as he glowered down at me. Finally, he kicked my trunk again, harder this time, then turned to stomp away.

He paused, and turned back to address me.

“If I see any freakishness this summer I’m throwing you out.” He growled, jabbing a finger in my direction.

I was still shaking by the time I fell into bed that night.

  
  


All my wizarding things were hidden under my bed thereafter. In response, Vernon had put about half a dozen locks on my bedroom door.

In comparison, the rest of the summer was pretty chill, to be honest. No one bothered me to make all the meals or do the housework anymore. I just spent my time in my room with Hedwig and my books.

Of course, Vernon forbade me from letting Hedwig out, but I wasn’t going to let myself be locked in the same room with an actual animal, no chance. So, every night after the Durselys went to sleep, Hedwig soared through the night sky, and conveniently returned before dawn.

All was well.

Except.

My letters.

Indeed, it seemed that Dobby the house elf would be following his fictional counterpart in stealing any and all letters that were addressed to Adeline Potter. It had occurred to me by this point that I should have told Hermione to try a false name but addressed to Number Four, Privet Drive, but it was too late.

So, I had to settle for sending short bursts of heat back and forth to Hermione through our bracelets over the course of July.

Then, Something tm happened.

  
  


“POTTER!”

I walked down the stairs at a leisurely pace and into the lounge.

“You called?” I said blandly.

If possible, Vernon’s face turned even more purple.

Vernon was over by the mirror over the mantle and was straightening his bow tie. He and Dudley were in matching dinner suits and Petunia was over in the kitchen putting strawberries on a monster of sugar and frosting she called a cake.

“You know, you should be a little more grateful.” Vernon grumbled. “We’ve raised you since you were a baby, given you the food off our table, even let you have Dudley’s second bedroom- purely out of the goodness of our hearts.”

I pursed my lips in annoyance.

“Now, as you know, today is a very important day.” 

I raised a brow, unimpressed. 

“This could be well the day I make the biggest deal of my career.” Vernon continued. “And I don’t need  _ any _ of your freakishness ruining it.”

I nodded in sarcastic solemnity.

“No freakishness.” I echoed.

“Good.” Vernon replied, not catching my sarcasm, then turned to address Petunia and Dudley. “Now, I think we should run through the schedule one more time.”

He pointed to Petunia.

“Petunia, when the Masons arrive, you will be...”

“-In the lounge,” She finished, then struck a pose against the mantle, “Waiting to welcome them graciously into our home.”

“Good, good, and Dudley?” 

“I’ll be waiting to open the door.” Dudley supplied with a simpering smile. “May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Mason?”

“Oh, they’ll love him!” Petunia cried. 

“Excellent, Dudley!” Vernon said.

Then, it seemed that all three Dursleys slowly turned to me in unison.

“And you?” Vernon prompted nastily.

“I’ll be in my room, silent as the grave.” I said flatly.

“Right you are, Potter.” Vernon growled.

It seemed that, this time, he caught the mocking.

  
  
  


So I was in my room. Silent. Waiting for Dobby to appear.

Suddenly, there was a  _ CRACK _ in the air, and caused me to jump in surprise.

At once, a creature with large, batlike ears and bulging eyes the size of tennis balls appeared in my room. I stifled a shout of alarm. Dobby looked just like he had in the film, pillowcase clothes and all. I stared, wide-eyed, at him as Dobby bowed so low that his long, thin nosed touched the carpet floor.

“Adeline Potter, such an honour it is.” Dobby squeaked.

I nodded in reply.

I didn’t want to say thank you for fear that Dobby may start screaming or something.

“I’m sure.” I said finally. “Now leave.”

“I shouldn’t, Miss.” Dobby said. “You see, Dobby has come to tell you-”

“I know.”

Dobby paused, mouthing silently in confusion.

“Forgive Dobby, he has heard Miss Potter is a great witch but-”

“But nothing,” I interrupted. “I  _ am _ a great witch. I know about the plot at the school and I know who the perpetrator is. Your warning is well-intentioned but unnecessary.”

“B-b-but, Dobby-”

“No, leave.” I snarled. “Or I’ll tell your master, Lucius Malfoy, that you’ve been sneaking off and misbehaving. Such disobedience will result in  _ severe punishment _ .”

As much as it was a tragedy that there were literal slaves in the wizarding world, I couldn’t allow Dobby to screw up my plans for this year- not with the changes I was intending to implement. However, I’d keep it in the back of my mind to make an effort to free the little elf by the end of the year if I had the opportunity.

“But Adeline Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!” Dobby wailed.

I hissed. “Shut up!”

Dobby had gone silent in fear, and I paused to listen in downstairs to hear if the Dursleys had heard. The faint voices hadn’t seemed to stop, so they must not have heard.

“Did you not hear me?” I growled, turning back to Dobby. “I already know about the plot, and about the Chamber of Secrets. Now, either hand me the letters that you’ve been stealing or  _ get out _ .”

Dobby stayed silent, staring at me through watery tennis-ball eyes.

Then in another  _ CRACK _ , he disappeared.

  
  
  


Well, that went well.

  
  


So because I had taken care of Dobby, I hadn’t gotten into trouble for using magic outside of school. Nor had I gotten into trouble with the Dursleys. 

July 31st rolled around without issue. The Dursleys forgot about it again, but I knew that Hermione had remembered my birthday when I felt my bracelet become warm against my wrist. 

I had the displeasure of having a miniature heart attack when I realized that this would have been my 30th birthday had I not died in the real world. I had a mild panic attack afterward, since I should have been at home, surrounded by family, and celebrating my turning thirty, possibly with kids already, not trapped in a fictional world trying to survive with my wits and sanity intact.

My Hogwarts letter came as well, along with the materials needed for Second Year. The letter was much the same, although missing some of the introductory bits of the one from First Year, though there was a new book list as well.

  
  


“ _ Uniform, second-year students will require: _

_ Three sets of plain work robes (black) _

_ One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear _

_ One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) _

_ One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) _

_ Please note that all students’ clothes should carry name tags. _

_ Set Books, all students should have a copy of each of the following  _

_ Magical Theory Part Too by Adalbert Waffling _

_ Potioneering for Beginners by  _ _ Arsenius Jigger _

_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk  _

_ Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart  _

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_ A Novice’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _

_ Other Equipment _

_ 1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) _

_ 1 Set glass or crystal phials _

_ 1 Telescope _

_ 1 Set of brass scales _

_ 1 Wand _

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad _

_ PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS. _ ”

  
  


I already had most of the materials, since I had taken care of them throughout the year, and my uniform still fit, so I wouldn’t really need to buy more. Maybe with the extra Galleons I could buy some regular robes for wear outside of school. 

The book list was to be expected, but I didn’t intend to buy any of Lockhart’s books at all. Perhaps I’d just look for alternative books about the Defense Against The Dark Arts.

  
  
  


A few days later, I hitched a ride with Petunia when she needed to go on an errand to London (as well as a stern warning that I’d be left behind if I was late meeting back up with her). 

The Leaky Cauldron was much the same, though I hid my face as I walked through the pub to the barrier. Diagon Alley was as beautiful and as magical as ever. Once again, I was taken by surprise at the sheer vibrancy of the place. People were bustling about, all chattering away. It seemed that most of the people here were out buying school supplies. 

I gazed at the shop fronts as I walked by.  _ Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment _ ,  _ Ollivander’s _ \- Ah, there it was,  _ Flourish and Blotts _ . 

I made a beeline for the bookshop the moment I saw it. I was rummaging through my bag as I waded my way through the passersby when someone called my name.

“Addie!”

I barely had time to turn before I was practically tackled at the side.

“Hermione?” I said incredulously.

“Of course!” She replied happily, pulling back. “Who else?”

I laughed, then took her in for a proper hug.

“It’s good to see you! Who are you here with?” I asked.

Hermione turned and pointed behind her to a couple walking up the Alley toward us.

“My parents!” She said. “It’s their first time in Diagon Alley because Professor McGonagall took me for my first time so now I’m showing mum and dad around and I think they’re having fun and we just came from Gringotts to get muggle money exchanged for wizard money and-”

“Hermione,” I interrupted, “Take a breath sometime.”

She laughed, breathing heavily from her nonstop talking.

“Who are you with, Addie?” She asked suddenly, looking around.

“I’m here alone.” I replied.

“Oh,” She furrowed her brows, “Well you can do your shopping with us then.”

I smiled. “Okay then.”

Just then, the couple neared us and stopped just behind Hermione.

“Who’s this, poppet?” Hermione’s father asked with a kindly smile.

Hermione grinned up at her father. 

“Dad! This is Addeline Potter, my friend that I told you about!” She turned back to me. “Addie, this is my dad, Wendell Granger, and my mum, Monica Granger.”

I smiled up at them. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  
  
  


The Grangers were quite nice, to be honest. Hermione had indeed told them all about me, although she’d had the good sense to leave out the daring acts of heroism we partook in at the end of first year- I suspect non magical people wouldn’t be as at ease with their children in mortal danger as wizards seemed to be. Even though they’d gotten through half their shopping already, they were perfectly willing to revisit some shops so I could restock some things of my own.

Finally, we only had  _ Flourish and Blotts _ to go, ironically, the shop that I’d meant to go to first.

The shop was packed, something I was confused about until I realized what scene this would inevitably end up becoming. I stifled a growl of irritation as I watched all the middle-aged witches bustle around and elbow each other to even get one step closer to the back of the shop, where I knew that absolute asshat, Gilderoy Lockhart, to be.

“Hermione, I need to tell you something.” I muttered as I pulled her aside.

She furrowed her brow in confusion at my sudden grave tone.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Gilderoy Lockhart is a fraud, he faked everything in his books.” I said sternly.

Hermione gave me a look of utter confusion as her mouth worked silently as she tried to form words. 

Finally, she eloquently replied, “...what?”

I gave a soft sigh. “I know you looked up to him and stuff, but he’s a fake. I thought you should know before you start fawning over him.”

Hermione drew back. 

“ _ Fawning  _ over him?” She echoed sharply.

I shrugged in reply, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

She huffed in annoyance, then seemed to collect herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked sadly.

“Yup.” I replied blithely.

She pursed her lips. I stared at her in vague boredom as I waited for her to get over it.

“Let’s just get our-” She began before interrupting herself, volume creeping back into her voice. “But Lockhart’s books are half the required text!”

I shrugged. “I’m not buyin’ ‘em.”

“But you might get in trouble!” She exclaimed, drawing some side-eyes from a few witches around us.

“Hardly.” I scoffed. “Also, I found out that final exams are like, sixty percent of our final grade, and those aren’t even written by the teachers- they’re standardized.”

“What’s your point?” She asked.

“Lockhart’s grading is only gonna take up sixty percent of my mark, and I figure I can just coast through that, to be honest- I usually have pretty good luck in bullshitting papers.” I replied easily.

“But- but-” She stuttered in aggravation. “That’s not how school works!”

I tilted my head at her patronizingly. “Unfortunately, you’ll find out a lot of things don’t operate how you’d think they do.”

Hermione’s face twisted into an expression of confused anger.

“What-” She started angrily.

“Let’s have this conversation later.” I interrupted. 

I glanced over her shoulder to her parents looking through the crowd.

“Besides, your parents are wondering where we are.” I added, remembering that civility exists.

She turned to look where my gaze was, then huffed.

“Alright.” She gave in.

We went back to her parents to tell them that we were going to go off alone when we were interrupted.

“Mum! It’s Adeline Potter!”

I suppressed a snarl as the entire bloody shop went dead silent. Calming my outward expression, I turned around on my heel to look at the rest of the people in the bookshop. I let a curled, sharper-than-required smile creep across my face in an attempt at a good natured reply. Of course, it had been little Ginny Weasley, grasping the hem of her mother’s robes, that had pointed me out. Literally. Her hand was still raised and grimy little fingers pointed at me.

“Ginny!” Molly Weasly hissed as she snatched Ginny’s hand and pulled it down.

At that, low murmurs and conversation bubbled up throughout the shop again, though a considerable number of patrons staring at me while they gossiped.

“Adeline Potter?” An excited voice trilled in the crowd. 

No.

Come on.

“Where is she? Part the crowd. Come now, ladies.” Lockhart simpered.

Soon enough, there was a long corridor of witches, parting a path between me and Gilderoy Lockhart. When he spotted me, Lockhart broke out into a bright, smarmy grin.

“Adeline, my dear girl!” He exclaimed. “Come here, I think it’s quite time we properly met!”

I clenched my jaw as I considered whether to approach. 

It’d be easier to just go to him and take the bloody picture. But I really didn’t want to. Though, if I didn’t, I’d risk the anger of Lockhart and all his adoring middle-aged ladies, and I didn’t particularly want to pick any fights today. I marched up to the back of the shop, resisting the urge to self-consciously check my robes for any dirt or lint. As soon as I got within arms reach, Lockhart grabbed the sleeve of my robes and pulled me flush against his side.

“Nice big smile, Adeline, together we rate the front page.” He muttered as he grinned for a photographer that had leapt up in front of us. 

I just managed to smooth the scowl from my face when the camera’s flash went off, momentarily blinding me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is.” Lockhart drawled to the crowd.

I caught sight of Hermione’s parents in the back of the crowd looking rather confused at the whole situation. 

“When young Adeline stepped into  _ Flourish and Blotts  _ this morning to purchase my autobiography,  _ Magical Me _ -” Lockhart continued, pausing for applause at the mention of his book.

As I continued to scan the crowd, I also noticed the rest of the Weasley clan, just as dirty and soot-covered as Ginny and Molly.

“-Which, incidentally, is currently celebrating its twenty-seventh week atop the  _ Daily Prophet _ ’s best seller list. She had no idea that she would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected works… free of charge.” He simpered.

The women applauded again, and the photographer took another momentarily blinding photo. Lockhart then dropped a great stack of books into my chest, and I just barely got my arms around them before he shoved me away. I quickly moved with the momentum to catch my footing and edged through the crowd back to the entrance.

When I met back up with Hermione, I gave her an exasperated expression, then handed her the stack of books.

“Here, now you don’t have to buy Lockhart’s garbage- you can get it for free.” I said flatly.

“Oh, Adeline, those are  _ your _ books.” Hermione’s mother said kindly.

“Don’t want ‘em.” I replied easily.

Her brows crinkled together in tender concern, an expression not directed toward me for a few decades now. 

“If you’re sure.” She hedged.

“Yep.” I drawled. “I just need to get my actual, instructive books now- er, once the crowd thins, I guess.”

I glanced back at the crowd, the women now pressing even closer to Lockhart now that he’d begun the actual book signing. Just as I looked over, I spotted Ron squeezing his way out of the crowd, followed by Ginny, Fred, George, and Percy.

Ron tipped his chin at me in greeting as he caught my eye and made his way over.

“Er, hey.” He muttered, face flushing pink. “Sorry about Ginny… back there.”

I leaned to the side to catch a glimpse at Ginny hiding behind Ron.

“Sure, no problem.” I replied blandly.

“Hey, Hermione.” Ron’s tone grew more confident as he addressed her.

“Hi.” Hermione replied shyly.

“Hermione, these are more of your friends?” Hermione’s father asked.

She nodded after a moment of hesitation.

“Hello!” Arther Weasley came bounding out of the crowd to greet the Grangers happily. “Who might you be?”

I took my attention away from the introductions as I vaguely noted the adults moving to a more quiet area of the shop and trailed my eyes around in boredom. As I looked up the stairs to the second floor, I spotted yet another familiar face.

Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy held my gaze and absently tore a sheet of paper from a book. I narrowed my eyes at him as he snapped the book shut and let it fall onto a nearby stack of books and made his way down the stairs. As he walked, I quietly separated myself from the rest of the group to meet him halfway, just beside the door to the street outside.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter.” He hissed as he approached.

“Not as much as you did, Malfoy.” I replied easily, tilting my head up at him.

He sneered at me, moving close to face me off.

“Famous Adeline Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.” He scoffed.

“Leave her alone.” Ginny growled, suddenly beside me.

It seemed that the  _ widdlest _ Weasley had followed me to the door of the shop. Malfoy’s brow quirked upward as he stared at Ginny, then he glanced back up at me.

“Bought yourself a friend, Potter?” He taunted. “This one certainly needs the extra gold.”

Suddenly, a snake-headed cane landed itself on Draco’s shoulder, stopping his words dead in his throat. 

“Now, now, Draco, play nicely.” Lucius Malfoy admonished smoothly.

Draco rolled his eyes minutely as he stepped to the side to allow his father to address us.

Of course, Lucius Malfoy had the most beautiful goddamn hair I’d ever seen; long platinum blond tresses that looked as soft as silk and flowed over his expensive cloak. Honestly, the rest of the guy wasn’t that bad on the eyes either, if I do say so myself. Although, the effect was a bit ruined by the haughty sneer plastered across Malfoy Senior’s face as he looked down his nose at us. As his gaze focused on me, his sneer softened into what I supposed could pass for a benevolent smile… in a darkened room… if one was half blind… 

Although, I didn’t miss the slight look of disdain he made at my muggle-style clothes.

“Miss Potter.” He said smoothly, then held out his hand for me to shake. “Lucius Malfoy, we meet at last.”

I eyed his hand as he held it out, knowing what would happen should I take it. I had only a split second to decide, then shook his hand- at least I knew what would happen this way. Any opportunity to stick to the timeline was a good one, I supposed.

Almost immediately, he added. “Forgive me.”

He suddenly pulled me forward and leaned down so that we were almost nose to nose, then brought up his cane to push away my hair to look at my scar.

“Your scar-”

I suddenly grabbed the head of his cane with my free hand before it could touch my forehead.

“ _ Not _ forgiven, Mister Malfoy.” I said sharply.

His gaze dropped quickly from my forehead to my eyes in surprise, then his eyes flitted to the cane I had intercepted, then back to me. He blinked, probably surprised that I had reacted so aggressively for the situation, then slid his smile back into place and looked down in faux embarrassment.

“Of course-”

Then I made a move that I hadn’t actually planned to do. As I held the snake head of the cane, I remembered that Malfoy kept his wand hidden inside. So… I acted before thinking, and smoothly slid the wand out of the cane and held it off to the side. Suddenly, it seemed as though the quiet buzzing of conversation in the background had halted, and silence surrounded my vicinity. I tilted my head at Malfoy as the words died in his throat and his eyes followed the wand’s movement almost magnetically.

“I don’t appreciate people touching me like that, Mister Malfoy.” I said calmly, but coldly.

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Let me go.” I added.

Slowly, Malfoy’s death grip on my hand loosened and I took a step back, still holding the wand pointed off to the side.

It was probably some crazy insult or faux pas to take someone else’s wand, based off of Malfoy’s reaction- or, he could have reacted that way simply because of who he was and his socio-economic standing. I supposed I’d have to ask Hermione about it later. I turned the wand over one-handedly and offered the handle to Malfoy, who quickly snatched it out of my grip.

“Insolent girl.” He hissed, sliding his wand back into his cane with a sharp gesture. “It would do you good to learn your place.”

A sarcastic smile fell across my face as I stared up at Malfoy.

“I’m sure you have a very interesting idea about where that is.” I replied with a wry smirk.

“Addie? What’s going on?” Hermione’s confused voice reached my ears over the hum of conversation throughout the shop.

I turned to see Hermione and Ron leaving the crowd to join me and Ginny in our face-off with the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy looked her over with a slight furrow to his brow, then a glint of recognition flashed in his eye.

“You must be,” He glanced at Draco for confirmation, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione tilted her chin up at him in response.

“Yes, Draco’s told me all about you… and your parents.” He drawled, the earlier tension leaving him as he fell back into his air of superiority.

Hermione glanced reflexively back at her parents, still talking with Arthur Weasley.

“Muggles, aren’t they?” Malfoy added with a sneer.

Hermione didn’t reply to the taunt, she only glared back at him resolutely. 

I felt a bit proud of the girl.

Seeing as though he wouldn’t get his desired reaction, Malfoy shifted his gaze to another target; Ron and Ginny.

“Let me see,” He drawled, “Red hair, vacant expressions…”

His eyes flitted down to Ginny’s cauldron, which held some of her schoolbooks, and picked one out and held it up. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to slip Tom Riddle’s diary into his hand.

“...tatty, secondhand books.” Malfoy observed. “You must be the Weasleys.”

And as though on cue, Arthur Weasley came up behind us, eyeing Malfoy with suspicion- then turned to us with a forced smile.

“Children! It’s mad in here, let’s go outside.” He said, his smile straining.

“Well, well, well, Weasley Senior.” Malfoy interjected smoothly. 

“Lucius.” Arthur greeted begrudgingly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids?” Malfoy asked, a pretense at small-talk. “I do hope they’re paying you overtime.”

He held up Ginny’s book between them.

“But judging by the state of this, I’d say not.” He added.

I could see Arthur clench his jaw at the insult, though he kept his composure.

Malfoy’s sneer turned into a snarl as he growled, his eyes flashing. “What’s the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

I quirked a brow, I hadn’t seen this fervour in the film. Malfoy seemed genuinely pissed at Arthur for being… muggle-tolerant. It was almost amusing how deeply he had fallen into his own prejudices- however, I’m not here to preach about equality.

Something about his words made Arthur calm somewhat, and he replied confidently and resolutely.

“We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.” He said.

Malfoy’s lip curled. “Clearly.”

“Associating with muggles.” He glanced back at Hermione’s parents further in the shop, then took a menacing step toward Mister Weasley. “And I thought your family could sink no lower.” 

This was it. I glanced down at Ginny’s cauldron just in time to see Lucius drop her book back inside with the others- and saw Tom Riddle’s diary hidden between them.

  
  


Now, I’d given this event quite a bit of consideration for the last few years. This was when Lucius Malfoy almost ruined Ginny Weasley’s life forever by giving her Voldemort’s first Horcrux. Her entire school year afterward had been torture since she was slowly dying through repeated possession by Voldemort’s malicious soul- leading to her near-death at the end of the year.

No one could argue that saving a little girl from this fate was a bad choice.

However, from a viewpoint of one considering the subsequent effects to the timeline that taking the diary away from Ginny would make, the decision had some stakes. Ginny would be the one to release Slytherin’s monster from its resting place under the school in the Chamber of Secrets, and leading it to wreak havoc and attack several students throughout the course of the year. 

The problem was, these events would lead to the death of the basilisk, allowing Harry Potter to destroy the diary Horcrux with one of its teeth. Plus, later on, Hermione and Ron would need to access the basilisk teeth in 1997 to be able to destroy the cup Horcrux.

I had two choices: I could take the diary from Ginny or let the timeline continue as it should.

However, when I was going through all this in my mind over the summer, I realized that I would need to be able to draw Gryffindor’s sword out of the Sorting Hat to kill the basilisk, which was probably impossible. Harry had been a true Gryffindor; brave, self-sacrificing, and true of heart in face of all the evils in his life- whereas I was most decidedly not.

So with that realization, allowing Ginny to keep the diary in hopes of preserving the timeline would be a meaningless gesture, because I wouldn’t be able to follow the timeline myself in the end because I wasn’t Harry Potter.

So plan “take the diary” it is.

  
  


“Ginny,” I muttered, “Is this yours?”

I pulled the diary out of her cauldron and held it up. She furrowed her brow at it in confusion, then shook her head.

“No.” She replied confusedly.

“You’re right,” I replied smoothly, “Because it’s mine.”

As I tucked it away into my jacket, I glanced back up and caught Lucius Malfoy’s eye as he stepped away from Mister Weasley- I’d likely missed the end of their conversation. His eyes narrowed into slits as he recognized the book I had, and I quirked a brow at him, daring him to say something. I saw his jaw flex as he clenched it, but he stayed silent and turned out of the shop with a flourish, his cloak swirling around his figure.

“See you at school.” Draco sneered at us, then followed behind his father.

Afterward, I simply shrugged off the confrontation and finally bought the book usually used for the Defense curriculum that I had found out from Fred and George,  _ The Dark Forces: Offense and Defense by Quentin Tremble _ \- which had been my actual objective at  _ Flourish and Blotts _ .


	13. Hogwarts 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline's back for another year at Hogwarts! Having dramatically changed the timeline by taking Tom Riddle's diary prematurely, she's not so certain about what will happen next...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years two and three will be shorter than year one, most likely four or five chapters each with one summer chapter in between. I'll hit all the important events of each year but I'm itching to move on to Voldemort's return when the timeline gets //really// AU!

I had been late in meeting Petunia outside, so she’d left me in London without a thought.

Miserable bitch.

The Dursleys didn’t much react in any way when the Grangers dropped me off near midnight. Thankfully, I managed to convince Hermione’s parents not to walk me to the door and give my aunt and uncle some strong words. Plus, after the confrontation at  _ Flourish and Blotts _ , I was able to find some clothes that didn’t look too wizard-y that I could wear as everyday clothes and during my downtime at Hogwarts. 

Now armed with my new school supplies, clothes, books, and finally sequestered in my room, I was able to read ahead on some of my courses and finally begin that summer essay I was assigned for Transfiguration.

However, the first thing I did when I got into my room was rip the diary out of my inner jacket pocket, throw it into my closet and slam the door, prompting a yowl from Vernon downstairs in reply. The damn thing had started talking to me halfway through the drive back to Surrey in the Grangers' car. I had to pretend that nothing was wrong after the initial hiss the Horcrux uttered had made me shoot up straight out of my seat. The words were unintelligible, even when the diary had been held close to my chest for about an hour after it had started whispering, which I was grateful for. Although, I worried that it would start speaking to me directly sooner or later, and hoped that I could leave it in the Dursely’s house when I left for Hogwarts before it could get to me.

Although, after a few days went by, I soon became paranoid about the diary.

I wasn’t sure whether it was that its whispers sounded so similar to parseltongue and was tempting me, or if it was my own self-destructive curiosity, but I became more and more inclined to write in the diary. I found myself opening my wardrobe door to stare at the Horcrux more often and, to be honest, it scared me.

Eventually, I snuck out to go to a hardware store and bought some wall plaster and some white paint that matched the shade of my bedroom wall.

When I got back to Privet Drive, I sequestered myself in my room with all my various tools I’d collected over the past few days. During midday the day after, when Dudley was out with his friends, Vernon was at work, and Petunia was at tea with some equally distasteful ladies down the street, I pushed my wardrobe away from its place beside my door and took a crowbar to the wall.

I got a small enough slit in the wall, leading into the space between the wall of the hallway outside and my room, that I could stuff the diary into. I had covered the thing completely in plaster a few days earlier to muffle its whispers and the diary was now cocooned in a brittle shell. I slotted it into the hole in the wall like a letter through a mail slot, then maneuvered it between the insulation so that it was propped up vertically inside the wall.

I quickly closed up the wall with the off-white plaster and smoothed it over. I had to wait a few more days for the plaster to dry, but the Dursleys weren’t able to see it since I had moved the wardrobe back against the wall to hide the plaster marks. 

When it was dry, about a couple days before I had to leave for Hogwarts, I smoothed the white paint over it and it didn’t look too much out of place as a result. More importantly, I could hardly hear the diary anymore, just a faint humming in the back of my mind.

I made Petunia drive me to King’s Cross two hours early, to counteract any shenanigans that Dobby would try to pull. Thankfully, the little elf must have realized that he would be inconveniencing several hundred other people and create an uproar if he tried to stop me from going to Hogwarts by deactivating the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. 

Being in second year, I wouldn’t be taking the little boat across the Black Lake to the school this year. However, I did have a minute heart attack as a thestral reared up, unfurling its wings right in front of me as I was about to board one of the carriages lined up beside the train station. Hermione gave me an odd look and asked me what was wrong, but I brushed her off with a lopsided grin and told her it was nothing. Additionally, because I took the train to Hogwarts, and not a flying car, I arrived at the opening feast in a timely manner and was able to watch the sorting and actually eat. 

Of course, Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year; Professor Lockhart. The Great Hall was suddenly drowned in screams from pre-teen and teenage girls, I’m not even joking- it was like falling into Purgatory. 

I watched with a grin as a flighty little Luna Lovegood bounced off of the little stool at the end of the hall and skipped down to the Ravenclaw table. I waved her over and offered her the seat next to me with a smile. The girl didn’t seem bothered by the odd looks she got, and dug into her dinner with gusto. Although, I was surprised at the sheer volume of pudding that girl had managed to put away by the end of the feast.

Dumbledore made his closing remarks after everyone had finished their food. I narrowed my eyes at the conniving old man. I’d have to tell him about the Chamber at some point this year, so he’d be able to kill the basilisk and leave its remains so that Ron and Hermione could return to it in five years or so for a Horcrux-destroying fang.

September 1st this year, in 1992, was a Tuesday, which meant that there were classes the very next day- to my disappointment. I had started to wonder if I’d ever get the good fortune of the first of September being on a weekend.

The next morning, I woke with vigour, ready to greet the day.

I was in such a good mood that not even having Potions first thing in the morning could put a frown upon my face. In fact, half way through Snape’s lecture about stirring a Swelling Solution potion, he cut himself off midspeech and demanded why I had been grinning so much. I supposed it would have struck him as a surprise to have his most hated student so gleeful in his class, but I just couldn’t help it.

The diary was already taken care of, and all I would have to do is keep up the act of the witty, probably-psychic, girl-who-lived persona and the entire year would go swimmingly. Even the thought of going up against Lockhart in class seemed a piece of cake.

Speaking of… 

“Let me introduce you,” Lockhart exclaimed as he suddenly threw open his office door, causing the bustling students in the classroom below to silence and look up at him, “To your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… me!”

Lockhart began sauntering down the ornate stone steps that lead down into the classroom from his office as he simpered.

“Gilderoy Lockhart! Order of Merlin, Third Class. Honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League. Five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.” He grinned and leaned casually against his desk before us. “But I don’t like talking about that.”

I suppressed a groan as I noticed Hermione smile radiantly at him from beside me. It seemed as though the girl wouldn’t quit with her little crush- one of the more annoying things about working with children in my situation.

“I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” Lockhart paused for laughter after he cracked the joke.

A few people smiled in reply, I heard a few weak chuckles, Hermione sighed like the lovestruck preteen she was.

Lockhart’s expression dropped.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of books…” He said as his eyes scanned the classroom. He paused, then furrowed his brow as he noticed my desk, devoid of books all except for  _ The Dark Forces: Offense and Defense by Quentin Tremble _ and some parchment. “...For the most part.”

“Now, I thought we’d start today with a little pop quiz.” He added as he held up a stack of parchment.

There were murmurs of confusion throughout the class.

“Nothing to worry about.” Lockhart assured as he began to pass the quizzes out by hand- not by spell- I noticed. “Just to check how well you’ve read your required reading material.”

As soon as he handed one to Hermione, she smiled as though she’d just seen the naked face of god.

“Thank you.” She said sweetly.

Honestly, I was starting to feel bad for her at this point.

As he passed, she quickly turned to me- probably intent on fawning over him with a like minded girl- but stopped short when she was met with my blank expression. She smiled a little awkwardly, then moved to fill out the parchment.

I flatly turned my own gaze to look at the quiz before me.

_ What is GILDEROY LOCKHART’s most favourite colour? _

_ What is GILDEROY LOCKHART’s secret ambition? _

_ What, in your opinion, is GILDEROY LOCKHART’s most impressive achievement to date? _

_ When is GILDEROY LOCKHART’s birthday, and what would his most ideal gift be? _

I rolled my eyes and stopped reading after the fourth question.

“What the bloody hell are these questions?” I heard Ron Weasley hiss from a few tables away from us, causing me to snicker.

“You have thirty minutes!” Lockhart announced as he returned to the front of his class. “Start!”

So I had a thirty minute nap.

Later on, Hermione managed to elbow me awake as Lockhart came back around to collect the quizzes, I gave him a sarcastic grin as I handed him the blank quiz.

“Tut, tut.” He said disappointedly as he looked through the quizzes at his desk. “Hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac!”

He shuffled through the papers again, then added. “But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own line of hair-care products. Well done, have ten points to Gryffindor!”

I sighed and rubbed my temples at the sight of Hermione practically melting in her seat at the praise.

“Now!” Lockhart suddenly exclaimed. “Be warned!”

He swept around his desk and picked something covered in a sheet up from behind it and set it on top with a flourish. It was the cornish pixies, I recognized with a grimace.

At the realization, I surreptitiously started pulling my wand out of my robes.

“It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard kind.” He said imperiously as he paced in front of us.

He suddenly tapped the side of the covered cage with his wand and it jolted and rattled at the contact.

“You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room.”

I glanced around the class to see if anyone was falling for this shit. Surprisingly, most of the class- even Malfoy- began to look worried at the mysterious creature that lurked within the covered cage.

“Know only that no harm can befall you in this room whilst I am here, though I must ask you not to scream.” He carefully grabbed a handful of the sheet at the top of the cage as he spoke. “It might… PROVOKE THEM!”

At that, he ripped the sheet off the cage and the classroom fell into shrill screeches that suddenly ripped forth from the volatile pixies in the cage.

The class had initially flinched back, but most wizard-born students relaxed as they realized what was inside.

“Cornish pixies!” Seamus Finnigan mocked loudly.

“Freshly caught cornish pixies!” Lockhart confirmed, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the class. “Laugh if you will, Mister Finnigan! But cornish pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters. Let’s see what you will do with them-”

I tightened my grip on my wand.

“NOW!” He exclaimed as he threw open the cage.

Almost instantly, I retaliated. “ _ Immobulus _ !” 

Just in time, the pixies began floating out of the cage as though they were in slow motion.

The class descended into silence as everyone stared at me, on my feet with my hand braced against my desk and my wand still pointed at the cage.

I glanced up at Lockhart, curious at how he would react.

Luckily, he seemed as dumbfounded as the rest of the class, and stared back at me in confusion for a moment. Though, quicker than the class, he composed himself and his wide grin fell back onto his face.

“Very impressive, Miss Potter!” He said loudly, then addressed the class at large. “Let’s all give Miss Potter a round of applause for her incredible quick thinking in the face of danger!”

A confused and hesitant smattering of applause joined Lockhart’s desperate and erratic clapping.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw, my dear!” Lockhart added.

He gathered himself then turned back to the class.

“You see, this is exactly what I was hoping for! Someone who, like myself, would be able to-”

I tuned Lockhart out for the rest of the period.

It seemed that, in my apathy, I had still become Lockhart’s favourite student.

Unfortunately.

  
  
  
  


“Oi! I booked the pitch for today!”

Hermione and I paused in our walk across the chilly courtyard, turning to find the owner of the indignant voice.

“There!” Hermione pointed to the outskirts of the castle grounds that led down to the Quidditch pitch.

Below, I could see two groups facing off, each dressed in green and red Quidditch uniforms respectively.

“Just leave them.” I said, trying to sound unconcerned. “Let’s go, Hermione.”

“Ron’s there, so are his brothers.” Hermione pointed out, beginning to stride toward the groups. “And I can see that little weasel, Malfoy, with the Slytherins.”

I quickly jogged after Hermione.

“Jesus, Hermione, they’re just gonna get into a fight. It’s not worth involving yourself in.” I argued as I followed quickly on her heels.

I knew what scene this was.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Addie.” Hermione retorted over her shoulder and picked up her speed.

We slowed to a stop as we reached the teams.

“Those are new Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-Ones!” Ron exclaimed as we arrived, still in the heat of the confrontation. “How did you get those?”

“A gift from Draco’s father.” Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team captain, sneered.

“See, Weasley, unlike some,  _ my _ father can afford the best.” Malfoy added, leaning out from behind Flint’s elbow.

Ron’s face turned a deep red in anger and embarrassment.

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in!” Hermione interjected, causing both boys to whip around to face her. “They got in on pure talent.”

Malfoy’s sneer contorted at her words and he stalked up to her angrily.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.” He snarled.

Suddenly, a frigid silence seemed to fall over the rest of the gathered Gryffindors. There were some gasps- while a few of the Slytherins made quiet sounds of surprise.

Hermione blinked in shock, her lip quivered.

Then suddenly, pandemonium erupted.

Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping him. A few of the girls on the Gryffindor team- whose names I didn’t know- quickly overcame their surprise and began yelling vitriol. 

“How dare you!”

“Elitist scum!”

“You’ll pay for that, Malfoy!”

I saw Ron raise his wand, intent on hexing Draco, and I leapt up and pulled it off target.

“Calm down.” I hissed at Ron before stepping in front of him to face Malfoy off.

He had a slight look of surprise on his face- either from my intervention with Ron or he hadn’t noticed me in the crowd earlier.

“What are you doing!” Fred or George blurted, both still struggling against Flint- who had been helped by another stocky-looking Slytherin.

I narrowed my eyes at Malfoy sarcastically.

“Wow, the rich kid learned a slur over summer break.” I drawled in a mocking voice. “How fucking  _ special _ of you, Malfoy.”

He furrowed his brows at me in confusion, the boys’ grappling abated as they watched us.

“I admire how you parrot literally any bullshit you hear, Malfoy, it really emphasizes how much of a spinless bitch you are.” I added.

Malfoy recoiled, insulted, and his mouth moved wordlessly as no words came out.

“Oh look, I can swear too.” I said flatly.

“Potter, why don’t you mind your-”

I snapped my head up at Flint, who had interrupted. “If you know what’s good for you, Flint, you’ll shut your crooked mouth.”

“Yeah, Flint.” One of the Weasley twins joined in, giving Flint a good shove.

“You’ve got a crooked mouth, did you know that?” The other twin snickered.

“You dare speak to me that way, Potter?” Malfoy found his voice and leaned his pointed nose in to crowd me.

“Please, you’re not gonna do shit.” I retorted. “Everyone knows a Malfoy isn’t good for anything except talk shit and cover their own ass-”

Then I added in a smoother, mocking tone. “-Just like your daddy when he slipped his Death Eater charges.”

The only warning I had was Malfoy’s expression contorting before he threw himself at me.

The next moment was a flurry of movement. I’m afraid that I didn’t have quite the best angle to watch the chaos, since Malfoy had tackled me to the ground and started wailing on me with weak, unpracticed hits. Like, seriously weak. The kid wasn’t even punching me, he was hitting me with the front of his knuckles- like how someone would knock on a door. With my forearms held up and blocking my face, I came out of the whole thing relatively unhurt later on.

I think I heard Hermione scream over the cacophony of yelling at one point. Also, apparently Wood had joined in the fight and both groups had descended into one big brawl.

Eventually, Malfoy began to tire in his assault and I caught his arm as it lagged in a swing and directed it past my head. With that opening, I propped myself up on my free arm and slammed my forehead into Malfoy’s nose.

Almost instantly, he reared back and pulled his hands up to cup his bleeding nose, blood spurting out between his fingers and falling onto me- staining my white collared shirt. His eyes had probably teared up too, because it was easier to push him off of me afterward. I rose to my knees over Malfoy and I pulled back my arm, intent on showing the kid what a real punch felt like when a hand grabbed my upper arm and hauled me off the ground completely. My legs kicked in the air for the split second I was airborne, then almost buckled as I was let go back onto the ground.

I barely managed to turn and face my aggressor when the front of my shirt was grabbed and I was manually yanked around to face Snape’s snarling face leaning into mine. My eyes widened in surprise at his appearance and I tried to pull back reflexively. Snape just tightened the fist holding me there and shook me as he snarled.

“What do you think you’re doing, Potter?” His voice was low, but it was intimidating as all hell.

My hands grasped his clenched fist reflexively, this scenario a little too familiar to me. Noticing that I wasn’t going to give him a coherent reply, Snape looked up at the older students, now standing and looking anywhere but the Professor.

“Malfoy said a slur, sir!” One of the Gryffindor girls blurted out.

Snape’s expression grew imperious as he turned his gaze on Malfoy, who was still crouched on the ground holding his nose.

“Come here, foolish boy.” Snape growled and beckoned Draco over.

Snape let me go with an absentminded push and grabbed Malfoy’s upper arm as the boy neared and brought him closer in inspection. Malfoy still had his hands cupped over his face, teary eyed as blood leaked through his fingers pathetically. 

I took a step back and nervously rubbed the back of my neck as I watched the two.

“Not so quick, Potter.” The professor snapped without looking up from Draco.

I paused midstep.

Snape smoothly brought out his wand from the inner folds of his cloak and held it up to Draco’s face and gestured wordlessly. The tip of his wand flashed white momentarily. Suddenly, Draco made a small flinch, then brought his hands down from his face. His nose had stopped bleeding.

Snape glanced at me out of the corner of his eye with an expression I couldn’t read, then seemed to notice the group of dead-silent students around the scene.

“What are you all standing around for?” He snarled. “Go back to your Common Rooms!”

In a wordless flurry, the students surrounding us, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, turned on their heels and quickly fled the scene, disinclined to incur more of Professor Snape’s wrath.

“Malfoy, Potter,” Snape started as he rose to his feet, “Follow me. My office.”

Then he walked off without another word, leaving me and Malfoy to jog after him across the field.

  
  


A few minutes later found both me and Malfoy standing meekly before Snape’s large desk in his private office. I kept catching Malfoy giving me glares out of the corner of his eye when he thought Snape wasn’t looking. 

As we entered earlier, I recognized the room instantly from the Occlumency scenes in the films where Harry had lessons with Snape in his fifth year. The walls were lined wall to wall with shelves filled with leather bound books and miscellaneous and mysterious things in jars and flasks.

My eye didn’t wander for long, however, because Snape recaptured my attention as he swept around his desk to sit, then stared at us imperiously. Despite myself, my face began heating up as I grew nervous, this scene bringing me back to my own elementary school days.

“Just what… Did you two fools… Think you were doing?” Snape pronounced calmly.

I clenched my jaw, trying to master my nerves. Really, it was quite ridiculous of me to be acting like this- there was absolutely no mortal danger, so why in hell would I be the least bit intimidated?

Intimidated, not scared, of course.

“Professor, she attacked me!” Malfoy blurted out, pointing at me.

I quirked my head to the side to look at the kid, not keeping an irritated expression from crossing my face. Malfoy still had blood stained across the lower half of his face, as well as the collar of his robes. Minutely, I felt specks of that same blood on my cheek when a sneer stretched my face.

I let out a heavy scoff in annoyance.

“Something to say, Potter?” Snape sneered.

I glanced back at him to see that he had been staring at me intently.

“Professor Snape! Potter is a menace and should be expelled!” Malfoy yelled, his face turning red in anger. “Look what she’s done to me, someone so  _ unhinged _ brings disgrace to the name of wizard! Potter-”

“Mister Malfoy!” Snape hissed furiously, his black eyes glinting in the low lighting of the dungeon office. “Hold your tongue or I will silence you myself!”

My eyes widened at Snape’s wrath, then flinched back as Snape whipped around to look at me again.

“Speak, Potter.” He commanded.

For a moment I hesitated, wanting to stay silent purely out of spite.

“I don’t see why we’re all standing around here.” I started hesitantly. “Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood, which is a deeply racist slur, and he should face repercussion.” 

“Then explain to me why Mister Malfoy is covered in blood, Potter.” Snape said deeply.

I searched his expression, then spoke.

“So I called Malfoy a bitch-”

“Twenty points from Ravenclaw for language, Potter.” The Professor snapped.

I drew back minutely.

“For just the muggle swear?” I shot back, my own anger spurring me on.

“Shut up, you idiot girl.” He said angrily. “Now continue describing to me the event.”

I stared at Snape wordlessly for a few moments, wondering whether or not to argue with him further, then decided to drop the matter for later. 

“Then I called his dad a bitch.” I added.

“Twenty more points.” Snape interrupted.

My lip curled in a snarl, then I angrily tacked on a last statement.

“Then Malfoy threw himself at me and attacked me with pitifully weak hits until you arrived.” 

Snape quirked a brow, though he didn't comment on my choice of words this time.

“And the blood?” He prompted flatly.

“I headbutted him.” I replied simply. “Self defense.”

Snape stared at me for a few seconds longer and I held his gaze. Then, I remembered that he could be reading my mind and abruptly turned my gaze down to the floor.

“Mister Malfoy,” I heard Snape say after a beat, “Is this true?”

“Professor-”

“I suggest you tell me the truth, Malfoy.” Snape interrupted threateningly.

I almost scoffed. What could Snape even do? Give Malfoy detention for lying? Oh, how schoolyard punishment seemed feeble through the lens of adulthood. Not to mention when said adult has faced the possibility of mortal death more than once, such as myself.

A quiet sigh sounded through the office.

“Yes sir.” Malfoy muttered. 

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Malfoy also had his head down like me, but instead out of embarrassment and fear most likely.

“Forty points from Slytherin, Mister Malfoy.” Snape said finally. “For your language, for attacking another student, and for lying to a teacher.”

It didn’t escape me what Snape did. Now both Ravenclaw and Slytherin had lost forty points each.

“Now, both of you, out of my sight.” Snape growled.

I didn’t say anything further as I followed Malfoy out of the office.

  
  
  


Hermione caught up to me in the corridors.

“How bad was it?” She asked, searching my face.

“Not much.” I replied easily. “He took forty points from each of us. I didn’t even get detention.”

“ _ Forty _ ?” Hermione echoed in astonishment. “Ravenclaw and Slytherin were the top two in the running!”

“Not anymore, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Addie, don’t you care about points at all?” She asked.

“No, what do you even get if you win?” I replied.

“The House Cup, of course!” She said.

“Hermione,” I turned to her, “Does the House Cup give you perfect grades? Does it give you a recommendation to your dream job? Does it hold any influence over real life?”

I paused and looked at her, making sure she understood my point.

“I suppose not.” She said reluctantly.

“Exactly,” I said, “However, I do recognize that competition is fun and so is winning, so I don’t begrudge the point system. I also recognize that it’s a good way to get students to participate during class. But you need to be mindful not to let a meaningless competition rule your mind and your actions.”

Hermione nodded, mulling my words over.

“You’re right.” She sighed.

“Hey,” I clapped her on the shoulder, “There’s nothing wrong with harmless competition, Hermione.”

She gave me a smile.

“Of course not, but I’m still going to win.” She said confidently.

I huffed a laugh.

“Good luck, kid.”

  
  


As we walked through the corridors in silence, I went through the second year timeline in my head. During the confrontation, Ron was supposed to have jinxed himself and the trio would have gone to Hagrid’s hut for refuge. I stopped that from happening and subsequently started a fight, but nothing was ultimately changed- except that Snape may loathe me even more. 

After that event was…

The writing on the wall!

The “Heir of Slytherin” was supposed to have opened the Chamber of Secrets for the first time around this point in the story. But with the diary Horcrux hidden in my bedroom wall at the Dursleys’, Ginny would never be possessed.

Now, what did the writing cause in terms of later events?

Students begin to suspect Harry because he was the one to find Mrs Norris hanging petrified by the bloody message. As well as Hermione deciding to make a Polyjuice Potion to find out if Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin due to his comment; “You’ll be next, Mudbloods.”

That offshoot of actions resulted in the anticlimactic reveal that Malfoy was not, in fact, the Heir of Slytherin and just a regular bigot. Also, Hermione was turned into a human-cat hybrid by the Polyjuice. So I wasn’t missing out on anything by clipping that branch of events.

Aw. I just realized that we wouldn’t get the scene of McGonagall telling us about the Chamber of Secrets during class- one of my favourite movie scenes for the atmosphere alone. Although, the whole debacle with the Heir of Slytherin only reminded me that I would have to go to Dumbledore sometime and tell him about the basilisk.

Unfortunately, telling Dumbledore about the basilisk would mean revealing my true nature to him once again. At the end of last year, I’d given Dumbledore a hint about my knowledge in the hospital wing after I’d killed Quirrell and slowed Voldemort in his pursuit of power. However, Dumbledore would probably want answers before he’d do anything for me this time.

I’d have to do it, I had no other option other than trying to take on the basilisk myself. Just for the record, I wasn’t that stupid. 

Well, I had a whole year to do that with nothing pressing, so I’ll go to Dumbledore on my own time.

  
  
  


Turns out “my own time” was longer than I had originally anticipated. 

Even after fifteen years, getting a new body, waking up in a fictional universe, and starting wizard school, I was still a master-level procrastinator. I honestly didn’t mean to wait all the way until February, it just  _ happened _ . One moment it’s September and I’m planning to tell Dumbledore about the chamber in about a month or so and the next moment it’s Valentine's Day and, for some reason, dwarves were dancing around the Great Hall like nutcases.

At least, I assumed they were dwarves. They certainly looked like the dwarves from Lord of the Rings or something; about four feet tall, surly-looking, and sporting beards hanging down at shoulder length at least. However, they also wore golden wings strapped to their backs and they carried small, matching harps.

  
  


“What the hell’s happening?” I asked agitatedly as I sat down at the Ravenclaw table, late to breakfast again.

“Madam Sprout has a grumpkin hiding under her dress.” The airy lilt of Luna Lovegood sounded to my left.

“That’s nice, Luna.” I said offhandedly, then looked pointedly at Mandy Brockelhurst for an answer for the chaos currently enveloping the Hall.

She gave me an awkward, tight smile.

“Professor Lockhart’s hired his own squad of ‘card-carrying cupids’, or so he says.” She explained. 

‘The bloody idiot.” Morag MacDougal interjected. “I can’t believe I wanted his autograph.”

It appeared that Lockhart was losing a bit of his fame as more and more students realized that he was a shit teacher.

I hummed in annoyance.

“Oi, Ad’line Pot’ah.” A gruff voice sounded behind me.

I turned on the bench to see one of the dwarves standing there, a card in his hand.

“I’ve go’ a musical message fo’ ya.” He said.

“I’ll give you two galleons not to sing it.” I said quickly, causing Morag to snort.

The dwarf paused.

“Come on, dude, it’s easy money.” I added, rifling through my pockets for some coins.

“Alrigh’,” He agreed when I pulled out the cash, “I’ll still recite it fo’ ya.”

I blew out an annoyed breath through my nose.

“Quietly, please.” 

The dwarf took another look at his paper and began reading aloud and the rest of the Ravenclaws around me leaned closer to hear.

_ “Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,” _

Oh dammit, it was the poem that Ginny wrote for Harry.

_ “Her hair is as dark as a blackboard, _

_ If she could be my friend,  _

_ I’ll stay with her ‘till the end, _

_ The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.” _

I blinked in confusion. Looks like Ginny wasn’t looking for love in this Potter, oh well. But wow, imagine being friendzoned by your own love interest. I wasn’t sure how to take it.

Laughter sounded around me as the kids within earshot descended into hysteria. I rolled my eyes and started picking strips of bacon off the buffet in front of me.

  
  
  
  
  


On an even more irritating note, Lockhart had started following me around after that first DADA lesson and still hadn’t let up. Like, sure, the guy’s pretty to look at, but I got quite enough exposure during Defense class alone. Plus, whenever he’d spot me, he’d start prattling on and on about the responsibility of fame and how to manage emotionally when you have people throwing themselves at your feet in droves. Jesus, this guy made me want to throw myself out of a window.

However, I did realize that Lockhart wouldn’t get the inspiration to host the duelling club without a big, mysterious threat to the school that he could take advantage of. So, I made sure he came across me one afternoon, reading my duelling book that I’d gotten from Hermione last Christmas.

  
  


“Say, Potter, what’s that book you’ve got there?” A jovial voice piped up down the corridor.

Right on time.

“It’s not one of mine, is it?” Lockhart added teasingly.

I rolled my eyes, then tilted my head up to look at the man.

“No, sorry, Professor.” I replied, more mildly than I would have otherwise.

I held up the book so he could read the cover.

“It’s a duelling book.” I explained, in case the dimwit couldn’t read. 

“Duelling, eh? I must confess I’ve duelled with a few foes during my own adventures!” Lockhart blustered. “Why, I would even theorize, with my extensive history of experience-”

Please, the guy was only 28.

“-That I could likely give our old Headmaster Dumbledore a run for his money!”

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.

“Wow, I’d bet that you could really… show us a thing or two about duelling.” I replied, my scripted response sounding a bit wooden.

Lockhart laughed ‘humbly’ in reply.

“Well, of course I could!” He exclaimed.

“You know, Professor, I’ve read that the Durmstrang school has a duelling club, can you believe that?” I said, injecting some enthusiasm into my tone. 

“A duelling club, you say?” Lockhart echoed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

It couldn’t be  _ this _ easy.

“A duelling club at Hogwarts would be so cool!” I continued. “I bet  _ everyone _ would want to join!”

Lockhart hummed, then glanced back down at me and beamed.

“You’ve just given me a marvelous idea!” He exclaimed.

Lockhart reached down and ruffled my hair. I fought to keep the wan smile on my face.

“Well, I’d best be off!” He said cheerily, turning to go back down the corridor. 

My expression flattened as I stared at Lockhart’s back.

Success.


	14. Much A-Duel About Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline's manipulations have fallen into place, she now gets to participate in the infamous Duelling Club scene! Additionally, an unforeseen problem arises during potions class afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote the duelling club scene back in November of 2018 because I was too impatient to wait until I got to that point in the story on my own lol. There was a bit of editing involved to match Addie's slight character growth from her first year, otherwise, I was happily surprised that most of the scene fit into the story.

“Gather ‘round! Gather ‘round!” Lockhart exclaimed as he climbed onto the stage.

Lockhart was wearing a powder blue combat vest, duelling pants, and boots. I would have said that he looked the part of a competent wizard except for the superfluous cape that he wore tied over one shoulder. Momentarily, I lamented the guy’s personality as I mused that his looks were wasted on the guy and eyed Lockhart up and down.

The rest of the students swarmed the stage as Lockhart called their attention to him, due to my foresight, Hermione, Ginny, and I were already at the front with a good view.

“Can everybody see me? Can you all hear me?” Lockhart asked rhetorically as he marched down the stage. “Excellent.”

He whipped around in a dramatic turn to face us all from the other end of the stage.

“In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club after class hours. To train you all up! In case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works.” 

I almost rolled my eyes at how seriously this guy took himself.

After he finished, Lockhart undid the knot that held his cape on his shoulder and threw it into the crowd. There were gasps from some of the older girls as they scrambled to catch it.

“Let me introduce,” Lockhart continued as soon as the room quieted, “My assistant...”

He held out his arm to the other end of the stage theatrically.

“Professor Snape!” He announced.

There was scattered applause, most of it coming from the group of Slytherins across the stage from me.

At his introduction, Professor Snape climbed the steps onto the stage. His face was impassive, but I thought that I could detect a hint of irritation directed toward Lockhart. He stood silently with his arms crossed, though I could see that he already had his wand drawn and he loosely held it in his right hand. 

“He has sportingly agreed to help me with this little demonstration.” Lockhart said. “Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry, you’ll still have your Potions Master when I’m through with him. Never fear.”

At that point, I couldn’t help myself. In sheer shock and amusement at Lockhart’s words, I barked out a high laugh that rang out through the Great Hall. Everyone turned to look at who had laughed and I ducked my head, somewhat embarrassed.

Meanwhile, as Lockhart spoke, Snape stalked his way to the centre of the stage to meet him. Lockhart then walked up the stage to the centre, mirroring Snape, then drew his wand.

When they came to be about a metre away from each other, Snape and Lockhart stopped. They each drew their wands in front of themselves in a salute to the other. Then, just as quickly as they brought their wands up, they whipped them down, back to their sides. They finished with a very shallow bow to the other, no more than a tilt of the head. They each quickly turned and walked slowly to their respective side of the stage then turned to face one another again.

Lockhart held his wand before himself in a loose grip with his wand arm bent. I don’t know what his other was supposed to be doing, it was just placed on his cocked hip. Snape, however, stood in a recognizable duelling stance. His feet were a shoulder’s width apart with his knees bent a little, and his wand arm raised behind him with his wand pointed directly at Lockhart. His other arm was drawn directly before himself and pointed at Lockhart. 

I had read a few books about duelling in legitimate curiosity but was dismayed when I had realized that it wouldn’t be like an actual battle at all. Duelling was all about proper forms and regulations of the game and whatnot. In hindsight, I suppose it was a little foolish of me to expect a recreation of the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort from the fifth movie to be commonplace in an everyday duel.

Lockhart began counting.

“One, two, three!”

The moment that Lockhart said three, Snape moved.

“Ex-pelliarmus!” 

The overpowered disarming charm sent Lockhart flying backwards. He landed in a thump further down the stage. At his swift defeat, quiet laughter echoed through the Hall as people tried to stifle their amusement at Lockhart.

Lockhart pushed himself up with a groan.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Hermione asked.

“Who cares.” Ron said from behind us.

I turned around to face him, I hadn’t noticed that he was standing behind us.

“I know right?” I said as I held out my fist for a fist bump.

Ron looked at me in surprise, then at my fist, then back at me, before bumping it with his own. I smiled at him before turning back around. Lockhart had gotten up and was now walking toward Snape, who was now standing calmly with his hands clasped in front of himself.

“An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape.” Lockhart said cockily, trying to save face. “But if you don’t mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to  _ block _ unfriendly spells, Professor.” Snape said flatly.

Lockhart froze.

“...An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape!” He said, turning away from Snape to walk back down the stage. “Let’s have a volunteer pair.”

He searched the crowd desperately.

I raised my hand.

“Ah! Potter! Thank you for volunteering. Is there another who’d like to duel?” Lockhart asked and turned again, searching the crowd.

“Me!” A voice shouted from the other side of the stage.

“Mr. Malfoy, brilliant!” Lockhart said. “Why don’t you two come up onto the stage?”

I met Malfoy’s eye from across the Hall. I raised a brow at him, he sneered back at me. I made my way through the crowd and climbed up onto Lockhart’s side of the stage. Lockhart met me at the edge of the platform.

“Now, Potter, here’s what you need to do-” He started whispering.

“It’s alright, Professor, I think I can do this on my own.” I said dryly as I continued to walk.

I stood in the middle of the stage, and waited for Malfoy and Snape to stop planning on their end. As they were finished, Malfoy turned to look at me and looked surprised that I was already waiting for him. He quickly walked to meet me at the centre of the stage.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart announced.

We both drew our wands in front of ourselves in a salute.

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy taunted, his words causing an old memory of this scene from the movie to flutter across my mind’s eye.

“In your dreams, Malfoy.” I casually said, forgoing the  _ ‘you wish’ _ from canon for something a little more me.

We both whipped our wands back to our sides. Malfoy looked about as ferocious as a twelve-year-old boy could, glaring at me with all his might. He probably wanted payback from when I handed his ass to him during the brawl at the Quidditch pitch. Then, we both turned and walked to our respective ends of the stage.

“Don’t go easy on me, Malfoy!” I shouted.

“Wouldn’t  _ dream _ of it!” He called back waspishly.

Malfoy took the same duelling stance that Snape had, with his wand arm drawn behind himself, wand pointed directly at me. I didn’t take a proper duelling stance, or the poor excuse for one that Lockhart had taken either. I wasn’t going to try something that I was unfamiliar with, like a duelling stance, so I stuck with something that I had known even before I was reborn as Adeline Potter. 

I stood in a fencing stance.

Both my legs bent considerably more than the average duelling stance and my feet made a ninety-degree angle if there were lines drawn inward from the heels. My wand arm was drawn in front of myself with my elbow slightly bent and my other arm was behind my body and out of the way entirely. This way, I would present myself as a considerably smaller target to my adversary.

“Cast your charms to disarm your opponent,” Lockart announced, “ _ Only _ to disarm.”

I rolled my eyes at that, mouthing  _ ‘no’ _ to Malfoy with a smirk. Facing away from Lockhart, he couldn’t see my face, and therefore what I had just said to Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he nodded stoically to me, accepting my challenge. It didn’t really occur to me that Snape could see my message to Malfoy as well.

“One, two-” Lockhart began counting.

“Everte Statum!” Malfoy interrupted, casting early.

I quickly drew my arm back.

“Protego!”

The spell crashed into my shield, sending me swaying backward and vibrations racing up my arm. If I hadn’t been standing the way I had, I would have been knocked off my feet just from the collision between spell and shield.

There were gasps and whispers all throughout the Hall at my use of a shield charm, a spell first taught in fourth year.

“It worked!” I laughed, instinctively looking over to find Hermione in the crowd. “Did you just see that? It worked!”

“Good job, Potter.” Lockhart commended. “Now continue the duel. But with disarming spells  _ only _ , Mr. Malfoy!”

I minutely considered letting Malfoy cast another spell, but quickly decided against it out of a will to dominate the duel.

“Levicorpus!” I yelled.

Malfoy was immediately dragged up into the air by his ankle and suspended there. He swung back and forth a little due to the residual momentum. Some laughter sounded throughout the Hall, but most were just looking on in interest, waiting to see what would happen next in the duel.

I stepped back and stood regularly, leaving behind my fencing stance as I watched Malfoy swing in the air. I caught Snape’s gaze behind Malfoy and drew back, nearly outright recoiling in surprise.

Snape glared thunderously at me, his eyes darkened.

I drew my brows together in confusion.

_ Why could he be so angry at that? _

I tried to think of why anything that I had done would infuriate Snape so much. Maybe it was the spell? I tried in vain to think back of where the Levicorpus spell was from, but I couldn’t recall. 

“That one brings back memories, Potter.” Lockhart mused from behind me.

_ Memories? What’s the guy on about now? _

“Do you know the counter spell to it? I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten.” He added.

I nodded, then pointed my wand at Malfoy again.

“Libra- uh… Liberacorpus!”

Suddenly, the force that had suspended Malfoy in the air had been released and he was sent sprawling on the stage. Snape grabbed Malfoy by the back of his robe and pulled him up roughly then pushed him toward me, a clear indication for Malfoy to continue the duel.

My eyes widened in shock. I had assumed that after my Levicorpus spell the duel would be over and Malfoy wouldn’t have the chance to summon the snake.

Malfoy quickly got back into his duelling stance and cast his next spell.

“Serpensortia!”

At once, a snake shot out of his wand and began slowly slithering toward me, hissing lowly.

Snape sighed quietly then strode forward.

“Don’t move Potter, I’ll get rid of it for you.” 

“Allow me!” Lockhart interrupted and began moving forward as well.

“No.” I said and physically stopped him with my arm.

I turned back to Snape and Malfoy.

“Why don't we all let  _ me _ get rid of it.” I said calmly.

“Don’t be silly, Potter.” Lockhart said. “You’ll have plenty of time to be a hero later, allow the real hero to work.”

Lockhart pushed past my arm and marched toward the snake.

“Wow,” I muttered, “He really just said that.”

Lockhart pointed his wand at the snake.

“Alarte Ascendare!” He cried and flicked his wand upward.

Following the movement of his wand, the snake was thrown up into the air, then landed back on the stage with a light thump. It shook his head as if disoriented, then turned and bared its fangs at the closest person, a Hufflepuff called Justin Finch-Fletchley. Justin gasped and backpedalled away from the snake, as did everyone in the crowd around him.

I huffed in annoyance. 

“Confringo.” I said sharply, pointing my wand at the snake.

The snake had no time to turn before my spell blew it to ash in less than a second with a stupendous  _ ‘bang’ _ and a spout of fire. My mouth quirked up into a wry grin at the sheer aggression of the blasting curse as I reflexively raised my hand to shield from the sharp burst of light. It was my first time casting it, I wasn’t sure whether it would work or not. I should have probably used Incendio, but seeing the Confringo spell in the movies had made me curious about its effects in real life.

I chose not to display my Parseltongue abilities to most of the school, it would only have made things difficult for me. Even if I had stopped the whole Chamber of Secrets plot from happening (as a result, students weren’t on the lookout for the Heir of Slytherin), Parseltongue was still apparently a dark magic skill; one that I couldn’t afford to be associated with.

My eyes flicked up from the scorch mark on the stage to Snape, who was now staring at me with an expression I couldn’t place.

“A-all right, give a big round of applause for our two volunteers!” Lockhart interrupted, trying to get the jovial mood back into the Hall.

I let a self-satisfied grin slip across my face as I let myself off the stage.

  
  
  
  


“Addie, I can’t believe you did that!” Hermione exclaimed somewhat angrily as she stalked down the corridor to potions. I followed along behind her, still trying to shake off my morning grogginess.

“Did what?” I asked.

“That stunt you pulled at the duelling club yesterday!” She replied, whipping around to deal me a sharp look.

“Kicking Malfoy’s ass again?” I asked. “That’s just habit at this point, ‘Mione.”

Hermione pursed her lips and suddenly whacked me in the bicep with her potions textbook. 

“Agh- jeez!” I snarled, jerking away to avoid another swing. “Just use your words!”

“Use my words?” Hermione echoed angrily.

“What stunt, dude?” I shouted.

“Potter! Granger!” 

Both of us froze and looked down the dungeon corridor to see Snape standing in the doorway of the potions classroom.

“Stop your caterwauling and get in here!” He snapped at us. “Five points from each of you for disturbing the peace.”

Disturbing the peace? Really?

I kept my expression flat as we passed Snape to get into the darkened classroom. I knew from experience that the man would take points for rolling your eyes at him. We walked into the dim room, everyone else was already seated and turned in their seats to stare at us silently. I scanned the room minutely, and let out a quiet groan when I realized the only two vacant seats were right in front of Snape’s desk. 

As soon as we were past the threshold of the door, Snape shut it with an echoing  _ bang  _ and swept past us, the edge of his robes flicking me in the face as he passed- which I was sure he somehow did on purpose.

“Today, we will be learning the fire-protection potion, then you will put theory to the test and brew in the remaining class time.” He drawled as he spun to a stop before the backboard. “Turn to page ninety-six in your textbooks.”

I fumbled a bit with getting my textbook out of my bag and quickly set it open at the correct page on the table while rummaging for my writing utensils. Snape didn’t wait for everyone to get all their materials and waved his wand, causing a stick of chalk to fly up to the board and start writing as he spoke. 

“The fire-protection potion is informally known as the ice serum, however, experts advise against calling it such because this potion is now commonly mistaken for the ice-blood elixir.” He explained flatly.

Sometimes I found it all so surreal (and a little humorous, to be honest). When you see Snape in the movies, he’s either getting Harry in trouble or duelling in some context. You hardly see the man getting down and actually teaching a lesson to schoolchildren. 

In the beginning, during first year, I had imagined Snape’s classes would have been somehow novel or interesting. Yes, while the very concept of potion making is pretty fantastic to someone who previously assumed such things to be fiction, you kinda get used to it after some time. Additionally, when the novelty of being in the same room as the character  _ Severus Snape _ from one of my favourite book series wore off as well, a weird disconnect seemed to form between the Snape I knew from the books and the Snape I saw almost every day.

Annoying, right?

When I think back to the films, I remember a lot more action than what I lived. I wasn’t disappointed, per se, but I was a little thrown off at how… normal everything seemed when it wasn’t a holiday or the end of the school year (infamous dates for shenanigans across most of the HP books). 

Like, jeez, I had this cool idea of Severus Snape: double agent debonair- a concept that clashed with the exhausted-looking, lanky, petty thirty-two-year-old guy in front of me. It wasn’t as…  _ cinematic _ as I imagined.

“Potter!”

I jerked my head up out of my musings to stare at Snape.

“Did you not hear me?” He glowered.

I managed not to grimace. Of course I didn’t hear him.

“...No, I heard you, Professor.” I said haltingly.

A mean smirk crossed Snape’s face at my reply, causing me to flush in embarrassment. 

“Well, then, Potter.” He said lightly. “What’s the answer to my question? Why don’t you- Granger don’t even  _ look _ at her!- share with the class?”

I will admit that Snape’s sudden interjection to his own question made me jump. Additionally, I heard Hermione squeak beside me, but I wasn’t inclined to look to see her reaction.

“The answer…” I started. “It’s a very good one, I’ll tell you that.”

Snape quirked a brow invitingly.

“Or, do you admit that you were not, in fact, paying attention?”

“Well…” 

_ The jig’s up, boys. _

“Your question was probably about…”

I leaned over in my seat to look at the chalkboard behind Snape.

“...The fire-protection potion.”

“Five points from Ravenclaw, Potter.” Snape said gleefully. “And do share what was much more interesting than today’s lesson.”

I stared at Snape for a beat, trying to come up with a funny-enough lie.

“Okay, honestly, I was thinking about how bomb it was when you handed Lockhart’s ass to him during duelling club.” I said blandly. “You’re like, a dope dueller, man- Professor.”

For a moment, Snape just stared at me. I was tempted to say ‘Snape.exe has stopped working’ just for the meme. I think I caught him off-guard with the compliment. Despite myself, my mouth twitched upward in a smug smirk.

“I would dignify that verbal mess with a reply, Potter, when you have learned to speak like a proper witch, and not some muggle vagabond.” He said flatly, prompting snickers from the pureblood bigots of the class.

I stared at him in surprise for a moment, then flashed a dead grin and gave a sarcastic laugh.

“Haha,  _ that _ took a turn.” I replied dryly. “But we do stan institutionalized discrimination, I guess.”

“Muzzle yourself, Potter, and pay attention.” Snape said, then turned to address the rest of the class.

_ Muzzle myself? Harsh. _

“As I asked just moments ago, what is the difference between a serum, an elixir, and a potion?” He asked.

_ Oh, I knew that, dammit. _

Hermione made a quiet grunt from the force with which she launched her hand into the air. Snape pretended not to see her as he scanned the classroom for potential victims.

“Malfoy?” He prompted.

I glanced over to the blond in question, only to see his cheeks redden as he seemed to shrink in his seat.

“A potion is a magical… brew, with various properties…” Malfoy tried haltingly.

Either taking pity on the kid or just plain bored, Snape interrupted to correct him.

“Close, but not quite, Malfoy.” Snape replied tiredly. “The word  _ potion _ refers to any magically brewed concoction, essentially serving as an umbrella term. An  _ elixir _ is a type of potion with purely medicinal intentions and effects. And finally, a  _ serum _ is mainly used to describe a potion that is water based and results in a small resultant yield. Additionally, the term  _ serum _ is not technically a legitimate label and is used in more informal settings.”

Then he added angrily. “Write this down!”

“What about Veritaserum?” I asked after a few moments.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for talking out of turn, Potter.” Snape sneered.

I raised my hand and stared at him blankly until he blew a heavy sigh out of his nose and answered my question.

“Veritaserum is the name of a well-known truth potion.” He explained. “The name comes from the latin  _ ‘veritas’ _ , meaning ‘truth’, and  _ ‘serum’ _ , meaning ‘liquid’. Veritaserum is officially recognized under the label of potion, not a serum.”

I nodded in understanding at the explanation, but Snape had already turned away back to the blackboard. 

“Read over the details of the fire-protection potion and its brewing instructions.” He continued the lesson. “Then join your brewing partner and use the remaining hour to make a successful potion for grading.”

The rest of the class afterward was mostly filled with silence, only broken by mutterings between lab partners interrupted by an occasional scathing comment from Snape. It seemed Hermione was still mad at me, she refused to speak with me other than to correct whatever potion ingredient I was handling wrong.

When we handed in our potion, Snape gave me a side eye and insulted my handwriting again after looking at my accompanying notes. Typical.

The second we were dismissed, Hermione rocketed out of the classroom. I huffed a sigh and jerked my bag over my shoulder and strode after her, only to see her disappear around a corner down the hall. 

Well, she was obviously quite upset with me, I could tell that much.

Earlier, she said something about my “stunt” during the duelling club. I wracked my memory for anything offensive that I would have done during my duel with Malfoy. The only thing I did unexpectedly was cast a Protego spell… She was probably talking about my Confringo curse!

I nodded absently to myself as I continued walking down the corridor.

It made sense, after all. Confringo was a highly volatile blasting curse and it was ultimately irresponsable of me to cast it around so many people who could have been hurt had I executed the spell incorrectly. Plus, it showed anyone who was observing closely that I wasn’t scared to go with the big guns, a bit of info that could tip off an enemy. In hindsight, I realized my error. Leave it to Hermione to be so conscientious and forward-thinking about these kinds of things. Sometimes it seemed like she was the one paying more attention to my own secrets than myself. It was advantageous to have her on my side.

I nodded to myself again as I climbed a large stone staircase up out of the dungeons. All I had to do was let her cool off a bit, separate from me, then let her approach on her own time. Kids were funny that way, they could get so mad with you but by the next day, everything would be back to normal. I had plenty of patience for Hermione to come around; I had waited eleven years just to get to Hogwarts, after all.

Suddenly, I was jerked out of my thoughts as I bumped into something, prompting a light  _ “ooph” _ from me. I quickly backtracked and found myself facing the Weasley twins, who gave me identical cheshire grins, promising mischief.

“Well lookie here, George.” The twin on the right said.

“Is that a lost little Potter I see, Fred?” The twin on the left asked.

“I do believe it is.” Righty- now tentatively identified as Fred- replied.

“Hello Weasleys.” I said flatly. 

I paused for a moment, then narrowed my eyes at them. The twins seemed to have been crouched behind the corner, looking up into the corridor at the top of the stairs on the main floor.

“Who are you two spying on?” I asked, suspicious.

George grinned. “No one, yet.”

“Yet?”

Fred nodded. “See, we have it on good authority that Malfoy Senior is gonna be visiting the school today.”

I almost physically recoiled in surprise. Lucius Malfoy? Here? At Hogwarts! Why? 

Questions flew through my mind and my anxiety rose as I tried to think of something I’d done wrong enough to prompt Malfoy to come to the school. It wasn’t another few weeks before a Quidditch game, so he wouldn’t be here to see his son. Who did he represent in the Ministry again? Some board for something, he’d mentioned in the second movie. 

Dammit! This was not part of the timeline!

First things first…

“How do you know that?” I asked, my voice a little too sharp.

Fred leaned down to smirk at me at eye level. “I’m sure you’d like to know, Potter.”

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed in annoyance, “Let’s skip the banter and haggling and just tell me where’d you hear it from, Weasley.”

Fred drew back in surprise.

“Not very friendly.” George muttered, somewhat amused.

Fred, less amused, furrowed his brows at me and replied in a flatter tone. “Lee overheard Malfoy Junior bragging about it in the corridors. Bloke said that his dad was gonna kick ol’ Dumbledore outta the school.”

George snorted. “Like that’s possible.”

Well, Draco’s certainly got a big mouth- one of the first things I’d noticed when meeting the kid. However, I wouldn’t put it past him to embellish some of the details of his story as well. Though, if Lucius Malfoy did want to get rid of Dumbledore, like he had planned to with Tom Riddle’s diary, I supposed he was sharp enough to think of some other kind of plot. 

“Did he say how, or why?” I pressed.

“Nah. He’s full’a hot air, if you ask me.” Fred drawled.

“I didn’t, but thank you for that assessment.” I said wryly.

“Anytime.”

I leaned around the twins to get a look at the corridor. On the main floor, this wide corridor was definitely where visitors would travel if they wanted to go to either the Great Hall or the Headmaster’s Office a little further. Hidden in a turnoff in the lower staircase, Fred and George had picked a perfect spying place. If I only had the Invisibility Cloak, everything would be perfect to eavesdrop on Lucius Malfoy.

“Gonna spy with us, Potter?” 

I turned to face the twins again, not really sure which one had spoken. 

I furrowed my brow as I considered whether or not to accept the invitation. Sure, I was brimming with anxious curiosity, all the more provoked by my paranoia that I had somehow screwed the timeline to hell already, but was it really a smart decision? Without my Invisibility Cloak, what could I even do other than crouch at the top of a staircase and watch Lucius Malfoy walk down a hallway? 

Plus, the man was an ex-Death Eater, intimately acquainted with war, torture, and murder- there was no way he wouldn’t be aware of three school-aged children stalking him. At best, we would go unnoticed and watch Lucius Malfoy walk down the Hogwarts corridors, maybe follow him to the Headmaster’s Office, and that would be it. At worst, he’d catch us and would know that I’m trying to pry into his affairs, subsequently putting me on his shit list. Plus, I would miss Charms class if I stayed with the Weasleys, but that was more of an afterthought.

Upon reflection, there was much more to be lost than gained if I were to spy with the twins. However, I was quite interested whether or not Malfoy was actually coming to the school. Confirmation on his presence would at the very least inform me that he had other plans at work concerning Hogwarts, and more notably, its Headmaster.

Speaking of the Headmaster…

I still needed to tell him about the Chamber- wait…

A slow grin edged its way onto my face as a plan began to form in my mind, twisting and solidifying as I pondered it.

“I’ll wait for Malfoy with you guys.” I said slyly.


	15. Big Trouble In Little Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addie wants to cut class to spy on Lucius Malfoy with the Weasley twins?!?
> 
> I wonder what her plan is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... my mum keeps asking to read my writing and stuff...
> 
> I caved a couple days ago and gave her the link to read this and felt INSTANT PANIC soon after. I immediately read over everything I've posted so far to see how embarrassing it is lmaoooooo. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it, Mum!
> 
> Update: After taking one look at it, she texted me to ask if I could make it into an audiobook smh.

Turns out, the wait lasted a little over half an hour- definitely too late to make it to Charms class. By the time the twins spotted Malfoy sauntering down the corridor from behind the corner, I had resorted to sitting a step below them and staring blankly down the staircase in boredom, running over what I should say to Dumbledore in my mind.

“There he is.” One of them hissed.

I perked up and whirled around to look over the corner through their legs. Sure enough, Lucius Malfoy was there; his heels clicking along the stone floors, decked out in all black expensive robes, and wearing a matching bow in his hair to boot. 

The twins and I backed down the steps as Malfoy passed the stairway opening, the man didn’t pay us any mind. 

Good.

As I watched him go, his cloak swishing behind him, I quickly stood up and shoved my bookbag into the arms of the closest Weasley.

“Hold this.” I muttered, then made to follow Malfoy.

“What are you doing?” One of the Weasleys hissed (I’d forgotten which was which). “You can’t go after him, he’ll catch you!”

“Just hold my stuff for me.” I said flatly. “I’ll come back for it later.”

“Not if you’re killed by Mister Malfoy.” The other twin said wryly.

“Then you have my permission to sell my school books in my honour.” I replied sarcastically. “But only after the announcement of my untimely death.”

At that, both twins flashed me a thumbs up with identical grins.

  
  
  
  


After a few twists and turns down the corridors, Malfoy slowed his stride, probably coming to the conclusion that whoever was behind him wasn’t simply walking in the same direction. I didn’t slow to match his pace, but continued on until I was walking beside him.

“Good morning, Mister Malfoy.” I said conversationally.

He gave me a disgruntled look, sneering a little.

“Miss Potter.” He replied in greeting.

_ Alright, not too bad. He didn’t say anything offensive, so he must not want to start a fight. Although, he didn’t choose the most respectful greeting- didn’t even say good morning back. Still, I could work with this. _

Malfoy resumed his strut down the corridor and I matched his speed, wearing a bland smile.

“Do you not have classes to be attending, young lady?” He asked frostily, not bothering to glance down at me as he walked.

_ Okay, maybe he does hold a grudge. _

“I was excused from Charms to go see the Headmaster.” I lied, putting a childish lilt into my tone.

“ _ Charms _ .” He mocked, his voice raising in pitch. 

_ Who am I kidding? Of course he holds a grudge. _

“And what in the world would be so important that you must be excused from Charms to see the Headmaster for?” He asked snidely.

My mouth twitched, but I kept my expression placid.

“I could ask you the same question.” I drawled.

Malfoy pivoted to give me a sharp look, his eyes flashing.

I drew back minutely in surprise. “What? We’re heading in the same direction.”

Malfoy calmed and stared down his nose at me. 

“Evidently.” He replied flatly.

Damn, if this guy wasn’t on a hair trigger. What’s his damage?

Obviously, just judging on his reactions so far, Malfoy was either pissed off or jumpy for some reason. He was definitely annoyed with me, first for showing him up at  _ Flourish and Blotts _ , and again for sassing him just now. I bet that he was perpetually annoyed with Dumbledore as well, that was a given. Plus, I knew for certain that Malfoy wanted Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts permanently and wasn’t above threatening people and committing various crimes to do so.

But the question remained, what did he plan to do this time?

I could only assume that it fell along the same objective: make it seem like Dumbledore is irresponsible and should be replaced- and Malfoy was probably going to use his influence somehow to press his claim. He likely had another cursed object of some kind that he could use in place of Tom Riddle’s diary…

What if he planned to plant it while he was in the school!

Maybe that’s why he was so jumpy! He wanted some place to leave a cursed object without anyone noticing, and because I was there, he couldn’t get a chance to do so.

_ Okay, wait, Madeline. Hold your horses for a moment.  _

There was no proof that Malfoy had anything, or planned to do anything else to attack Dumbledore. Yes, the possibility of him doing so was quite high, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself by imagining all these dastardly plans and running myself in circles before the man actually did anything. I’ll watch him until we get to Dumbledore’s office, then I’ll inform Dumbledore of the threat- then possibly help out with disposing of Malfoy.

I shivered in anticipation. I hadn’t planned to tell Dumbledore about my knowledge just yet, and the idea of him knowing more about me skittered uncomfortably through my mind. However, it really was high time I got around to it; it was already March. 

There wasn’t really a concrete plan about what I would say to Dumbledore, I just figured I would go with whatever flow the conversation decided to take at the time. Of course, I knew what kind of information I was and was  _ not _ going to give him. After all, I was only giving Dumbledore these hints because I needed him to help me get rid of the basilisk in the first place- so I would only have to explain the information pertinent to that scenario. 

Although, I might have to figure out some kind of explanation for exactly  _ how _ I have knowledge of this information- but that was why I had told Hagrid that my knowledge was part of my powers from the prophecy. Ideally, Hagrid would have told Dumbledore that tidbit of knowledge and Dumbledore would have already rationalized it somehow with his broader knowledge of magic and whatnot and has now hopefully just accepted that I’m some kind of prophet. Obviously there was the possibility that this new knowledge would have only led to Dumbledore preparing questions for me on that basis. However, I was confident that I could either bullshit my way out of any true explanation or I could just “prophesize” that it wasn’t the right time to tell him yet.

I’d imagined what Dumbledore would ask about, but I couldn’t be certain what the old meddler would fixate upon. Last year in the hospital wing, he’d been hung up on the fact that I had “planned” to kill Quirrell during our face-off, oddly. I would have assumed the master schemer could have understood my position a little better, as someone who must have contingencies upon contingencies like I did. 

Either way, it was stupid of me to think he’d be honest to me. Dumbledore was obviously still hiding behind his old harmless geezer shtick during that conversation- he kept going  _ on and on _ about putting myself in danger and all that. I would have laughed.  _ As if _ he didn’t already plan to put me in that exact same danger. I bet that he just didn’t like the fact that I was thinking for myself and had actually chosen to go down and face Quirrell knowing the moral ramifications of killing the man.

Clearly I would have to assert myself more during this exchange for Dumbledore to actually treat me like an intellectual equal. To do that, I would probably have to emphasize the power that I held in this situation and how much he needed my info to get a leg up for the war. The reality, something that Dumbledore would have to come to terms with, was that this was a situation of supply in demand. Dumbledore needed information and only I could provide it. 

I had to cut off my train of thought as the gargoyle that stood in front of the Headmaster’s office came into view around the corner. I minutely wondered how Malfoy would be able to access the office without having been told the password.

Suddenly, the man stopped and looked down his nose at me again, a sneer curling his lip. 

“I intend for this conversation with the Headmaster to remain private.” He said flatly. “You are relieved of your… escort duties.”

_ Pfft, escort. This guy thinks it’s all about him. _

I flashed him a sarcastic smile. “I’ll just wait out here.”

Not bothering to give me a reply, Malfoy strode up to the gargoyle and addressed it. 

“I am Lucius Malfoy and I wish to speak with the Headmaster.” He said sharply, his tone demanding and stern.

To my surprise, the gargoyle obediently leapt to the side, revealing a winding staircase leading up to Dumbledore’s office. Curious, I inched a few steps toward the entrance to follow Malfoy’s form as he marched up the steps. Before I could get to close, however, the gargoyle jumped back in front of the entrance, blocking my way. I stared at it flatly and huffed, then made to lean against the wall opposite and waited for Malfoy to come back out.

A few moments later, I eyed the gargoyle suspiciously. 

“Sherbert lemon.” I tried, doing the little jazz-hands motion that McGonagall did in the second film.

Nothing.

Turns out this whole day was going to be one long waiting game.

Sooner than I had thought, Malfoy came back out of the office, looking even more pissed off than he had going in. He only flashed me a snarl before turning on his heel to either leave, his cloak fluttering behind him. I didn’t have a chance to go after him because I had to dive through the doorway to the stairwell before the gargoyle resumed its post. 

Luckily enough, it worked. Though I’d bet that the gargoyle wouldn’t have been so lax had I not been a young and inoffensive student.

I darted up the stone steps up to find a heavy-looking wooden door and knocked confidently.

“Come in, Miss Potter.” I heard Dumbledore’s voice call out from within the office.

“Did Malfoy tell you I was there or did you just know?” I asked wryly as I opened the door. 

I almost didn’t finish the sentence when I actually saw the office. It looked almost nothing like it did in the movies! 

My eyes widened as I scanned the walls, all crammed with oil portraits of older wizards and witches, presumably the past headmasters of Hogwarts. All the figures seemed to be sleeping in their portraits, but an odd, half-formed memory flitted into mind that I had read somewhere that they were pretending so they could eavesdrop of the goings-on of the office. Of course, that was how Phineas Black carried messages from Dumbledore to the Order of the Phoenix, I recalled.

The office was actually quite large, but a fair amount of the floor space was taken up by various tables holding a myriad of delicate looking instruments- some stationary, others with whirring gears, and some puffing thin wisps of smoke into the air to dissipate soon after. A massive, claw foot desk sat at the opposite end of the office, where Dumbledore sat serenely, seemingly content with letting me take a tour around the room. My eyes darted to a large stand situated beside his desk, where a massive red and gold bird sat- Fawkes, the phoenix.

Dumbledore smiled when I finally met his gaze, his eyes twinkling and dressed as brightly as ever- salmon robes with spangles lining the fringes. “Miss Potter, I was not expecting a visit from you. Not to say that such a meeting is unwelcome, of course.”

I gave him a thin, awkward smile. “What did Malfoy threaten you with?”

Dumbledore’s face tightened minutely in what looked like concern.

“I can see this is not a social call.” He said. “However, Miss Potter, such conversations between Mister Malfoy and I are decidedly not your concern as a student.”

“He wants to get you kicked out of Hogwarts.” I said flatly. “He already had a plan this summer, in which to use a tremendously dangerous magical object, but I stopped it when I met him in Diagon Alley before the school year started.”

The concern on Dumbledore’s face grew, and he leaned forward in his chair. “Please sit, I’d like to know what occurred during your encounter, if you’d oblige me.”

I nodded sharply and took a seat at one of the two smaller chairs that sat before his desk.

“Here’s the deal.” I said before he could get a word in. “I need you to help me with something very dangerous that would really help us in a few years. In return, I’ll tell you all about Malfoy and his plots to dethrone you.”

Dumbledore drew back, a look of mute surprise crossing his face. “I’d help any student in need, Miss Potter, there need be no transaction or bribery.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. 

“In truth, I am honored to carry out my duty as this hallowed school’s headmaster.” He continued. 

“Well… great.” I replied haltingly.

“There is no catch, Adeline, I would not hesitate to assist you in a time of need.” Dumbledore said, his voice earnest. 

“Thank you.” I said awkwardly, then tried to gather up my previous arrogance. 

“But you don’t even want to know about Malfoy or anything?” I added, my tone disbelieving. 

“I admit, such knowledge would greatly benefit me and the school. But I would never force you to tell me anything.” He replied.

“...So- so do we have a deal or what?” I asked.

Dumbledore chuckled softly. “There need not be any deal-”

I opened my mouth to interject, but Dumbledore raised a hand and continued.

“-But I will agree to one if it alleviates your concerns.”

I paused, then nodded.

“Please, describe to me the specifications of this deal, Adeline.” He prompted.

I took a measured breath before I spoke. “I need you to help me… take care of something very dangerous in the school, and if you do, we will have some very useful tools at our disposal afterward.”

“ _ Our _ disposal?” Dumbledore echoed, curiosity coloring his tone. 

“Well yes, because it would have been a joint effort and we’ll be the only ones to know about it.” I replied as though it was simple- which it was.

“And would you be willing to disclose what exactly this task is?” Dumbledore asked gently.

I shook my head. “No, but I’m completely certain that you’ll be able to do it.”

“I see.”

“And in return for this favour, I’ll tell you what Malfoy was planning and I can maybe tell you how I know… depends.” I added. Unfortunately, my deal didn’t seem so compelling anymore.

“I trust that you know of Mister Malfoy’s plans through the same means that you were aware of Professor Quirrell last year?” He asked.

“Yes.” 

Dumbledore sat back in his seat and stroked his beard in contemplation, his gaze suddenly seeming incredibly far away. He was probably weighing the cost to benefits. Or he was thinking about what he could squeeze out of me. Or he was-

“I would like to help you, Adeline.” He said finally. “I accept your offer.”

I blinked. That was easy. 

“Now,” Dumbledore added, some joviality entering his tone as he smiled sedately. “What do we need to do?”

“Kill a basilisk.” I said flatly.

To my annoyance, he didn’t react much. Dumbledore just furrowed his brows in concern and confusion and gave me a measured look.

I sighed, then elaborated. “There’s a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, just waiting for the Heir of Slytherin to come waltzing in and give it a command to kill whoever he wants.”

“That is a very significant claim.” Dumbledore said gently.

_ He thinks I’m lying. _

“The entrance is in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in the sinks, and it needs a Parselmouth to open the passage.” I added. “Which I am.”

“A Parselmouth?” Dumbledore echoed. 

“Conjure a snake if you don’t believe me.” I challenged.

Dumbledore sighed. “I’m not calling you a liar, Adeline.”

I took a breath, willing myself to calm. 

“‘Course, right… anyway, that- that’s what you need to know.” I stumbled over my words as I cast my mind out to try to remember if I’d missed anything. “Also, I’m worried that Malfoy might try to hide something in the castle while he’s here. I walked with him here and watched him but he could be planting something on the walk back while we’ve been talking.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “I had suspected that Lucius Malfoy’s visit had not such benign intentions simply to threaten me. Worry not, Adeline, I will make sure that Mister Malfoy did not leave anything behind on his way out of the castle.”

“Good, thanks.” I said.

“But on the topic of this basilisk...” Dumbledore added. “I must consult with some books to measure the best way to face it. A basilisk is no creature to sniff at, it is a terrible and fearsome monster.”

I almost made a remark about how I knew and that it had terrorized the school fifty years ago, but I stopped myself from giving that information away for free.

“I’d like for you to come back and meet with me here in a week from now after your classes.” Dumbledore said. “Additionally, I trust that you will not take any hasty action regarding the Chamber of Secrets.”

“‘Course.” I replied. “I came to you for that reason.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I thank you for your trust in me, Adeline. I suspect it must be difficult to rely on people with the burden of your knowledge resting on your shoulders.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was Dumbledore trying to weasel out my allies? Reveal who I confided in and subsequently knew the same information that I did? Probably so that he could tie up loose ends in case he had to take care of me if he decided I was a threat.

“It’s easy as long as people don’t press me for it.” I said pointedly. 

Dumbledore’s smile weakened, as though my snide reply had physically pained him.

He gave a heavy sigh. “Although it grieves me that you maintain that I hold nefarious intentions regarding you, you have my word of honour that I will respect your right to your own council.”

My brows quirked downward in momentary confusion at the statement, but Dumbledore continued before I could reply. 

“Now, I believe that you have, regrettably, missed your Charms class, have you not?” He asked. “Most unfortunate, for Professor Flitwick is quite fond of you, he tells me that your charmwork is particularly adept- much like your mother.”

The reference to Lily Potter made me pause briefly, not expecting Dumbledore to bring her up. 

“Yeah… I’ve heard. Anyway, I’ll get going to class then.” I said, getting up from my seat. “See you next week, Headmaster.”

“Until next time, Adeline.” Dumbledore said warmly. “-And, for future reference, the password for the gargoyle is  _ ‘Soor Ploom’ _ .”

I turned and gave him a wan smile in reply. “Thanks.”

I realized that it was too late to get to Charms when I glanced at a large clock hanging on one of the main corridor walls, with only ten minutes left of the class period. Lunch would start at noon soon, so I resolved to go up to the Ravenclaw common room to get my books for my next two classes of the day, then go down to the Great Hall to eat, then find Fred and George to retrieve the stuff I left with them.

The loud church bells sounded the end of the period just in time as I was headed down to the Great Hall. I smiled to myself as everything seemed to be going my way- I’d just possibly thwarted Lucius Malfoy’s next scheme, Dumbledore and I were going to go down to the Chamber of Secrets next week, and I’d finished my Transfiguration essay a few days early. 

Everything seemed to be coming up Madeline.

My catlike grin was still on my face as I slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table between the twins and threw my arms over their shoulders. 

I pulled them down to my height and said smugly. “Look who’s not dead.”

The twin on my right shimmied out of my grasp and looked me up and down in amusement. “Well would you look at that, George, miracles  _ do _ happen.”

The twin on my left similarly ducked out from under my arm and replied. “Thought she was a goner.”

“ _ She’s _ right here,” I interjected, “And she wants her stuff back please and thanks.”

At my words, George leaned over to reach under the table and pulled my bag up from underneath and dropped it into my lap. I blew out a pained breath as the cauldron inside my bag hit my leg a little roughly, then shot George an annoyed look.

“So what did you find out?” Fred asked.

“Better be something juicy, Potter.” George added.

I winced at them in an apologetic look. “Not much, to be honest. Malfoy just wanted to talk to Dumbledore and wouldn’t let me follow him into the Headmaster’s office, obviously. He ditched me at the door.”

Fred  _ ‘boo’ _ -ed as George threw his head back and made a loud “aw!” of disappointment. 

I muffled a laugh as I continued. “Yeah, sorry that-”

I paused as I saw Hermione walk down the aisle to the Gryffindor table just a few seats down from us. She didn’t even give me a glance- either she hadn’t noticed me yet or was still mad. Well, now’s as good a time to any to try to make amends, I supposed.

“Excuse me a moment.” I said to the twins as I stood up.

I plastered on a hesitant but warm smile as I sat down on the bench beside Hermione, my back leaning on the edge of the table so that I could face her.

“Hey, I think we should talk.” I said, trying to inject some artificial Dumbledore-style kindness into my tone.

Hermione pursed her lips, then turned her head to eye me with suspicion. I held her gaze innocently, somewhat confused. Apparently, she didn’t quite find what she was looking for in my expression because her brows drew downward and her expression darkened.

“What do you think we’re talking about?” She asked flatly.

My head tilted reflexively to the side, and my placid smile thinned as I tried to catch on to what she was getting at.

“My…  _ ‘stunt’ _ at the duelling club.” I hedged, keeping my tone confident.

“And, look,” I added before she could reply, “I know, I was irresponsible. That was on me, I completely take the blame.”

Hermione’s expression slackened somewhat, which meant that I was on the right track. My buzzing thoughts calmed somewhat- I had said the right thing. Now onto the rest of the script.

“I shouldn’t have used the Confringo curse during the duel.” I continued. “It was dangerous and… totally unnecessary- and I get that. It was just, I dunno, I guess I got caught up in the moment, I was showing off, and next thing I know, I wanted to end the show off with a bang.”

I looked back up to flash Hermione a sheepish smile, but paused as I noticed her expression. Instead of begrudgingly understanding like I expected her to be, and maybe a little exasperated or something, Hermione’s face was slowly forming into a scowl.

“I- did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“Did you-” Hermione echoed in disbelief, drawing back. She huffed angrily. “I’m not upset about whatever spells you used during the duelling club, I’m upset that you even volunteered at all!”

Okay, now I was confused.

“You do this all the time!” She exclaimed. “You just rush into trouble without even giving a moment’s thought whether it’s even necessary at all! Just because you want to show off! Honestly, do you even think about anyone other than yourself sometimes?”

I began to open my mouth to reply but she cut me off.

“Don’t answer that! I already know what you’ll try to say.” She growled. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t know you were up to- trying to manipulate Lockhart into starting a duelling club just so you could show off and make threats. You’re not as sly as you think you are.”

I paused as I heard whispers starting around us.

“Hermione, people are starting to stare.” I muttered, annoyance lacing my tone.

“Let them! If you didn’t care so much about this- this  _ persona _ you constantly try to keep up then you’d realize that you could do so much  _ more _ ! Instead, you keep secrets and plots and- and it feels like you’re just  _ using _ me sometimes!” Hermione continued furiously. 

I clenched my jaw, alarm seeping into my veins at her last statement. I huffed in embarrassment, my eyes shifting around the Great Hall to the people openly watching Hermione’s rant.

“You keep hinting that you somehow know things about the future and that you need my help but then you turn around and hide everything from me until the last possible moment!” She added. “Last year, you didn’t tell me anything about the Stone or Quirrell and I had to practically rip the answers out of you! Then you turned into a completely different person when you threatened Professor McGonagall-”

“Hey!” I seethed, then shot a nervous glance to the staff table where some of the faculty were watching our one-sided conversation unfold with visible confusion and interest. “I get it, you can stop now!”

People were starting to hear and if Hermione spilled any more of my secrets then I would be in quite a bit more trouble than just from an upset preteen girl.

“This is what I mean!” She cried, gesturing angrily at me. “Stop pretending! Stop tricking people!”

“Look, Hermione, I can explain.” I hissed. “I’ll tell you whatever the hell you want, I’ll let you in on what I’m planning-”

“This isn’t how you treat your friends!” She interjected. “Every time I mention anything like this, you just try to make another deal with me to shut me up and string me along with your secrets, one after the other!”

I huffed a frustrated breath as I tried to scramble for something to say, something to get her to just. stop. talking. 

I brought my hand up to my temple in agitation. “Okay, jus- just- what can I do? What do I do to… make it better?”

Hermione scoffed. “You don’t understand, do you? That’s not how it works!”

I raked my hands through my hair. This whole situation was flying out of my control. How could I stop it? How could I salvage it?

“I  _ don’t _ understand, okay!” I blurted out, ripping my hands out of my hair to gesture wildly. “I don’t understand- I don’t… know what I’m doing! I’m just trying to keep everything in line so that everything works and I don’t completely fuck up the timeline and I’m just  _ so stressed _ -”

I cut myself off with a gasp. 

_ Too much, I said too much. That was  _ stupid _ \- shutupshutupshutup- I could smack myself that was so  _ unnecessary _! God, I hate myself. I need to get out NOW. Ridiculous- how can I expect to be in control of the situation I can’t even control myself!  _

“ _ I’m leaving. _ ” I seethed, practically fleeing the conversation as I jumped up from my seat and threw my bag over my shoulder. I blinked quickly, eyes down at the flagstones so that I couldn’t make eye contact with all the people gawking at me throughout the Great Hall. Heat pricked behind my eyes and my face heated up in embarrassment and frustration as I ran from Hermione and my own issues that she had shoved in my face.

I didn’t stop or slow in speed as I rushed down the corridors back to the Ravenclaw common room, not even when I almost crashed into people or tripped myself up. 

I only stopped for breath once I reached my dorm room. Seething, I clenched a fist around the bedpost and stared into the middle distance as I tried to calm myself down. What the hell was that? Did I seriously just have a meltdown in the middle of the Great Hall because of some  _ child _ saying she didn’t want to be my friend anymore? Jesus, what was wrong with me?

I blinked rapidly as I felt my eyes prick again. Stupid. I couldn’t believe I was being so emotional. I’ve literally spent a decade living in a cupboard and treated like an indentured servant and not once did I even think I was about to cry! All this emotional bullshit only started once I arrived at Hogwarts. What about this damn castle was screwing me up? Over the past two years, I’d cried more than I had in the past ten! Plus, I wasn’t even crying about the right things! When Snape killed that troll in front of me, sure, I was a little shaken, but I got over that. Even after I literally murdered Quirrell with my bare hands, I didn’t have a strong reaction! But one unexpected conflict renders me incapable of self control?

_ God, there’s something wrong with me. _

I carded a hand through my hair as my breathing evened out. Where did that freakout even come from? I’d bet the house (if I had one) that I certainly had some deep seated issues from all the shit that I’d gone through over the past twelve years, but if I was going to keep having these strong reactions, I could kiss any future success goodbye. I knew what was in store for me in my future, and none of my past experiences would even hold a candle to literal torture and war.

_ Wait, relax, this is only a recent thing, for all I know, it could be a one-off event or something. _ I thought hopefully to myself. I never thought of myself as an optimist, but right now I could use a little hope, to be honest. Some part of me realized that I couldn’t keep over analyzing myself when I barely knew jack-shit about psychology, much less the psychological issues of a victim of fictional reincarnation. The only thing that I could really do was to calm myself the only way I knew how in this lifetime.

_ Repression! _

A weak smile crossed my face at my own mental antics. I tried to be self-aware, I really did, but sometimes my own stress and paranoia made self examination in the moment a little difficult. I needed more discipline if I was ever going to truly master my own emotions and outbursts. Not just the extreme instances like what just happened in the Great Hall, but my little slips to people about the future, too. Fun little jabs were harmless, like saying what people were about to say as they spoke, because I already knew what they’d say- but that blunder to Snape about him having to be on the third floor last year was potentially problematic. 

Speaking of, Snape hadn’t brought that specific event up at all after it happened, but I could tell that he glared at me with somewhat of a new eye afterward. In the moment when I had run into him, I exclaimed that he needed to be heading to the third floor when I’d cut him off from his intended destination. Snape had caught it and had later asked me why I said so, and I made an absolutely garbage attempt to lie and told him that I hadn’t said anything of the kind. He let it drop that day, thank god, but I feared that he’d bring it up at some random time he had me cornered and off-guard. 

Even though I’d known the guy as my teacher for two years, and as a fictional character for more than twenty, I could barely even guess what went on in his head. All I knew for certain were his future actions and that his true loyalty would always be to Dumbledore. Paltry information, though I knew would be helpful in the future during Voldemort’s second rise to power.

...Hmm, I had let my mind wander. 

A tried and true personal calming method, my mind had naturally drifted off to the topic of Snape from the situation in the Great Hall. Now, I wasn’t as agitated anymore, though my head was still buzzing a little more erratically than usual from the aggressively depressive emotional high I’d just been on. 

Now, back to the Hermione problem.

What had she said back there? I admit that I wasn’t quite listening for the beginning part- planning what I’d say and all- also, I wasn’t really listening during the end part since I was getting so mad. Middle part it is!

She said she hadn’t been mad at me for using the Confringo curse at all, oddly, but for volunteering to duel at all. However, I knew that the duelling club wasn’t strictly the problem for her, but the catalyst that had made all my combined offenses unforgivable. She was mad that I kept secrets from her and kept her on a need-to-know basis. Really, I hadn’t even noticed that she’d realized that I had been using her, quite stupid of me. 

I sighed. As much as I’d like to tell myself that Hermione was just a tool, I’d made a damn promise to myself last year that I’d treat her like a friend. And, for the most part, I had. I’d come to see the girl as a little sister of some kind. It was just that little bit about an international magical terrorist hiding on the back of our teacher’s head that I didn’t tell her about. Thinking back on it, I still couldn’t make myself feel bad for not telling Hermione about that earlier than I had. I knew she’d try to go to Dumbledore or something and screw the whole damn timeline up. 

If only I could make the girl understand. 

_ Ugh, was this how literally every adult in any fantasy adventure felt when they kept secrets from the teenage protagonist?  _

I’d have to make it up to her somehow, but in a way that wouldn’t patronize her or put me in a position where I’d have to reveal the course of future events. The more people who knew about the future would just be more variables that I would have to account for who might possibly act unpredictably according to the timeline. It was hard enough keeping track of the small changes I’d made to key characters just by interaction alone. 

Speaking of key characters… My failure with the giant chess set last year had made it uncomfortably visible to me that I may need to make more ‘friends’, namely, Ron Weasley. I had to become closer with the Weasley family through either Ron, Ginny, or the twins, since their family becomes key in the future- plus their involvement with the Order of the Phoenix.

I’d already made steps to become acquainted with Ron through Hermione on some occasions this year, but considering this little conflict with Hermione may span a little longer than I’d thought it would, I might have to scrap that idea- which left either Ginny or the twins.

In the meanwhile, I’ll first have to get to my next damn class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol was Addie's freakout a little too real? I was pulling from personal experience.


	16. Snakes In A Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline's ultimate plan for year 2 finally comes to fruition- as does the deal she made with Dumbledore... 
> 
> To be honest, I had some fun writing Dumbledore in this chapter. No one seems to write him with a satisfactory degree of whimsy anymore smh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another missed update day last week...  
> I'm finding that I have much less time to write and edit now that school has ramped up. My prewritten chapters seem to be dwindling lol. I think I'm going to change my update schedule from every week to every other week so I can keep a steady stream of prewritten chapters as a buffer in case something happens down the road.  
> Thanks for reading!

I was practically vibrating through my lessons over the next week in anticipation for my meeting with Dumbledore. Ironically, it was the perfect time to be on a non-speaking basis with Hermione, since I could barely think of anything other than the Chamber of Secrets, much less remember to talk to anyone.

Although, however ironic I found my current situation, guilt needled at the back of my mind more and more whenever I saw Hermione or thought of our last conversation- if it could be called that. It was easy enough to cut my losses and clinically think of other people to manipulate connections with in theory, but in practice I still found residual spikes of emotion in my chest every time someone would eye me and whisper to their friends with a laugh, or when a professor would give me a pitying look as I sat alone during classes. 

I kept telling myself that I’d make it up with her eventually, but that mantra seemed weaker and weaker as the days passed. When Hermione partnered up with Ron in the next potions class, I’d felt as though I’d been punched in the gut. After a split second of staring after the bushy-haired Gryffindor, I’d quickly gone over to the Ravenclaws in the class and negotiated a partner switch with some of the boys to keep myself from the embarrassment of going to Snape about it.

“Unfortunate that some people only have the one person who’ll actually stand them.” Malfoy drawled when he noticed my change in brewing partner. “It makes for such pathetic abandonment when their  _ friend _ finally gets tired of it all.”

My face flushed and I stopped myself from turning around and snapping at him. Out of some weird sense of pride, I couldn’t let Hermione know how much Malfoy’s comment bothered me. In the end, I just acted like I couldn’t hear his snide comments throughout the rest of the potions class.

I was relieved when the day came to go to Dumbledore’s office. I brought an old backpack and stuffed my Invisibility Cloak inside, though I paused for a few minutes to try to think of anything else I’d need for the venture down into the Chamber of Secrets. When I couldn’t think of anything else, I shucked off my outer robe (damn flowey wizard robes always getting in the way) and pocketed my wand, then headed up to the Headmaster’s Tower. I couldn’t help but give the gargoyle a smug look when it jumped aside at my utterance of ‘Soor plooms’ as I went in.

I gave Dumbledore a cursory nod as I entered the office, my mind buzzing with possibilities of how he decided we’d get rid of the basilisk. Although, a large, wheeled cage of… chickens… gave me pause.

“Uhhh, what’s with the chickens?” I asked.

Dumbledore gave me a smile. “We are dealing with a basilisk, my dear. It is well known that the cry of a rooster is fatal to such a beast. Its hide is impervious to most magic, after all… much like a dragon in that respect.”

I furrowed my brows. “Is it?”

I wracked my brain for any mention of roosters in the second film, but nothing came to mind. All I could recall about basilisks from the movies was that spiders were afraid of it. Was this just another odd thing I’d discovered about the wizarding world that wasn’t in canon like the backwards writing in first year? But roosters? What an odd thing to insert… it  _ must _ have been in canon that a rooster could kill a basilisk. When would they have said that during the film?

Wait, was that fact in the books?

Damn, I’d been noticing for some time that my knowledge about the little things were lacking. I knew the content of the films much better than the books. The last time I had read the  _ Harry Potter  _ books in my life as Madeline was when I was twelve, whereas I’d just finished a  _ Harry Potter _ movie marathon with my family as a dumb little graduation celebration- and the films had been still fresh in my mind when I woke up as Adeline Potter not long after that event. 

I silently cursed myself for not reading the damn books later in life. My neglect of the true canon could quite possibly mean my death in this life if I relied on the wrong bit of information from the films. 

_ When I get back from the Chamber of Secrets, I’ll have to try to write down what I know from the books and movies separately or something _

I tried not to show my worry on my face as I replied to Dumbledore. “That’s really helpful. It’ll save us a lot of time trying to fight the thing.”

Dumbledore paused, then made a somewhat pitying expression.

“Yes, well…” He started.

I gave him a flat look.

“It would be horribly irresponsible of me to bring a student into the Chamber of Secrets to slay a basilisk, Adeline. I just couldn’t do such a thing under good conscience.” He said gently.

“You need a Parselmouth to open the Chamber!” I exclaimed angrily. “And I was the one to tell you about it, you can’t just ditch me!”

“I plan for you to safely access the entrance of the Chamber in the girl’s lavatory, then wait for me there as I dispatch the basilisk.” He explained calmly.

I threw up my hands. “Come on!”

Then, the memory came to me. 

“Oh!” I pointed at him as I remembered. “There’s a second door inside. You need me to open that one too!”

Dumbledore sighed. “Adeline, if you are not-”

“I’m telling the truth.” I interjected, with a more sedate tone. “Seriously.”

Then, I suddenly shook my head again at my weirdly recent poor memory. “Ugh, you need a Parselmouth to summon the damn snake too. Jesus, what’s wrong with me today?”

I put a hand to my temple in annoyance and I stared into the middle distance as I tried to remember what the hell Tom Riddle said to the statue to make the basilisk come out. Something, something… he held his hand out at the statue, I could remember. Something…  _ sa-lee-thay _ … part of it sounded like? Damnit, I couldn’t remember. 

“Are you alright, Adeline?” Dumbledore asked.

I waved a hand absently, “Yeah, just- I dunno, I’m going through some stuff.”

I looked up at him sharply before he could reply. “Don’t ask.”

“As you wish.” He said easily. “Now, back to the business at hand.”

He shot the cage or roosters a look of contemplation, then addressed me after seemingly having collected his thoughts.

“This basilisk… it is imperative that we must dispose of it?” He asked.

I nodded. “It poses a huge security risk to the school on its own. But I’m mostly focused on what its fangs could do for us in the future. Basilisk venom can destroy a lot of really dangerous dark magic artifacts.”

“Yes, you mentioned such artifacts last week. I confess my curiosity of the nature of the things you plan on destroying.” He replied.

I paused as I thought of how to reply to that. Dumbledore had said that he didn’t strictly want to make a deal for information that I have offered last week, so my first instinct was to not give anything away for free. But I worried that if I tried to keep him in the dark too obviously and about too many things, Dumbledore would not want to continue collaborating with me. In this specific instance, I needed him more than he needed me, so I would lose the most if he were to pull out of our little quest right now.

He technically accepted my deal in the end so that I’d tell him about the basilisk. But didn’t seem inclined to ask about Malfoy’s plans so far in the conversation. So, obviously, he wanted me to come forth and tell him what Malfoy was up to out of my own volition. Possibly to try to foster my trust in him? 

Now, he was asking about the ‘artifacts’ that I’d mentioned that the basilisk fangs could destroy. Information on the Horcruxes weren’t part of the deal- and I wasn’t even sure that Dumbledore actually knew about the damn things yet. He didn’t even have the diary Horcrux yet so he couldn’t study it (if such things were able to be studied at all). Well then, I realized that this was possibly something in which I had a distinct advantage over Dumbledore. He’d certainly be more than curious about the possibility of the Dark Lord being able to return and would want to know all he could in order to stop Voldemort.

However, I had to keep that information to use as leverage for later. I strongly suspected that things were going to get considerably more rocky between me and Dumbledore when it would come to light that I was withholding more knowledge about the future than he could imagine.

“Sorry,” I said carefully, “But that information wasn’t part of the deal.”

Dumbledore just dealt me a tired look, as though he had expected me to say that. Was I really that predictable?

“I see…” Dumbledore replied after a moment. “I shall respect our deal then, and I hope that you will inform me about these artifacts when the time comes.”

I nodded. “I plan to.”

And that wasn’t actually a lie.

“If you must accompany me down into the Chamber, then I insist that you must not do anythng that could endanger yourself.” He said sternly.

I quirked my head. Something about this was familiar.

“I will be able to dispatch the basilisk myself with the roosters, and also if the roosters are somehow not effective.” He continued. “You must trust me to protect you and take care of the beast.”

I nodded.

“To do so, you must do as I say, for I refuse to put you in more danger than you must be. I mean that you must follow orders as ‘run’, ‘hide’, or ‘go back’, do I have your word?” He asked.

“Sure.” I had no problem with saving my own life.

“If I tell you to hide, will you do so?” He pressed.

“Uh, yeah.” I said flatly. Still, weirdly familiar…

“If I tell you to flee, will you obey?” 

“On the word, I’ll book it.” 

“If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?”

That question prompted a surprised huff of laughter out of me. 

“It’s just a basilisk, not a lake of inferi.” I said flatly, finally remembering where this little exchange came from.

“I will not have you take this lightly, Adeline.” Dumbledore said sternly.

“Okay, okay,” I relented, “I’ll ditch you at the drop of a hat, I promise.”

“Very good. Now, I presume that you have your Invisibility Cloak in that backpack?” He said.

“Yep, and there’s room for some other stuff if you wanna bring snacks.” I said dryly.

“Thank you for the offer, but I think I shall keep my lemon drops in my office.” Dumbledore replied, a smile reappearing on his face. “I will need a pick-me-up after we ‘do the deed’, as it were.”

“Cool, shall we go, then?” I asked.

“One moment, we are still waiting on someone.” Dumbledore replied mildly.

I furrowed a brow in confusion.  _ Who could we possibly be waiting on? _

“Ah, my apologies, I had another question I had wanted to ask you, Adeline.” Dumbledore said. “Will you also be able to command the basilisk?”

I paused in my confused thoughts and shook my head. “No, I won’t. That, I know for sure.”

The ringing sound of Tom Riddle’s voice echoed in my mind as I spoke,  _ “Parseltongue won’t save you now, Potter, it only obeys me!” _

“I didn’t think so. Though thank you for confirming my suspicions.” He replied.

I tipped my chin up at him in reply, still trying to think of who the hell Dumbledore would trust with this kind of incendiary information. Wait…

“You called for me, Headmaster?” 

My shoulders dropped and I stared at the bastard in the office doorway in annoyance. 

However, Snape looked even more annoyed than I felt.

“I didn’t agree to this.” I said sharply. “Why is  _ he _ here?”

“Adeline,” Dumbledore chastised sharply, “Professor Snape is your teacher and deserves your respect.”

I gestured vaguely with a hand. “Yeah, sure. However, the measure of my respect- or lack thereof- has no influence on the fact that Professor Snape  _ wasn’t part of our deal _ .”

“What deal, may I ask?” Snape interjected, giving Dumbledore a pointed look.

Dumbledore smiled. “Miss Potter and I will be descending down into what we believe to be the Chamber of Secrets. I would ask you to stand at the entrance and await us in case we do not return, Severus.” 

I visibly relaxed at Dumbledore’s words. He only called Snape up to be a glorified guard dog- not to betray me. Despite myself, I felt a wave of relief go through my mind.

Snape furrowed his brows. “In case you do not return?”

“Quite unlikely,” Dumbledore replied happily, “But one cannot take chances in these kinds of situations.”

“Very well.” Snape replied.

“Now, I believe everything is in order.” Dumbledore said, rising from his desk and clapping his hands together. “Now, onward!”

I shook my head in annoyance. That man was entirely too cheerful sometimes.

As he walked, the cage of roosters wheeled behind Dumbledore, floating a few inches off the ground when going down any stairs in its path, leaving me and Snape to follow behind.

We got some odd looks as our trio made our way down the school’s corridors toward the second floor. People were probably thinking that I’d done something monumentally forbidden enough to warrant both the scariest teacher in the school and the headmaster leading me somewhere. Although it was somewhat funny to see Dumbledore happily greet everyone by name when they passed, contrasted with Snape’s glowering stares. The effect was only added two by their completely opposite outfits of bright orange and black on black.

“Pardon me, but is anyone currently occupying this lavatory?” Dumbledore called into the bathroom as we arrived. “This is Headmaster Dumbledore!”

I huffed a laugh. “I’ll go check.”

“Thank you, Adeline.” Dumbledore said, then stepped aside to let me go in.

I quickly checked each of the stalls, and, seeing them all empty, I turned to get the professors. Suddenly, a wispy flash right in front of me as I turned jolted a sharp shriek from me. I cut myself off quickly and made a growl of annoyance.

“Go away!” Moaning Myrtle demanded.

“Adeline, are you alright?” Dumbledore called.

“Yep!” I called back flatly, holding Myrtle’s gaze with equal annoyance. “Bathroom’s empty!”

“Lovely.”

I smiled sarcastically at Dumbledore’s reply as the professors came into the bathroom. Snape shot me an unimpressed look as he spotted Moaning Myrtle- probably having correctly guessed what caused my yell earlier.

“Now, if you’ll kindly open the Chamber entrance, Adeline.” Dumbledore prompted.

“Sure.” I said absently, my eyes already glued to the sinks.

I ran my hand across the taps as I walked around the sinks, looking for the little carved snake in the side of the one that marked the entrance. There! I jerked to a stop as I felt the little engraving in the metal. I quickly turned the knob on the sink to check- yep, no water came out.

I stood back and took a deep breath, staring intently at the sink.

“Open.” I commanded.

A pause.

“Did you need to say it in Parseltongue, Adeline?” Dumbledore asked.

I glanced back at him in confusion. “Did I not?”

“No, that was English.”

I huffed. 

“Okay, lemme just…” I shook my hands out in annoyance.

“Open!”

Another pause.

“Still English, unfortunately.”

My shoulders dropped.

“Headmaster, if I may. Perhaps Potter is experiencing some kind of… performance issue?” Snape drawled.

“Just give her a moment, Severus.” Dumbledore replied calmly.

“Goddamnit.” I muttered, then pulled my wand out and pointed it at the sink.

“Serpensortia.” I casted.

I stared pointedly at the small, green snake now sitting inside the sink basin of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Open!” I snapped.

Finally, that echo-y resonance that I could hear when I spoke Parseltongue sounded around me. I took a step back with a satisfied look on my face as the bathroom floor suddenly groaned beneath our feet. I looked back over my shoulder to the professor’s with a bit of a smug smile at the sound. 

I heard the irritated hissed complaints by the snake as it slithered out of the sink basin and onto the bathroom floor as the whole sink began shaking and lowering into the ground. 

“Vipera evanesca.” I quickly pointed my wand at the snake, and it disintegrated under the counter spell.

“Now,” I said, turning to the professors as the hole leading down into a tunnel was revealed, “Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, enemies of the heir, beware.”

“Most fascinating.” Dumbledore said as he stepped forward to observe the hole between the sinks. “Is this connected to the school’s piping system?”

“Think so.” I replied, looking down the tunnel with him.

“To think, Slytherin had this secret tunnel system hidden under the school this whole time.” Dumbledore mused. “Yet another one of Hogwarts’ secrets.”

He glanced back at me. “I presume this very Chamber was opened fifty years ago?”

My brows shot up at his connection. “It was.”

He nodded. 

“Secrets upon secrets- well, I suppose that is rather the point of the name.” He smiled. “Now, is it safe for you to jump down, or shall I levitate you?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine.” I said. “It’s sort of a slide actually. Except you land in a bunch of skeletons and bones and whatnot.”

Dumbledore hummed cheerfully. “How revolting!”

“Well then,” He took a step back, “After you, Miss Potter. I will levitate the roosters behind you, and Severus will stand guard here and come retrieve us if we do not return in…”

He glanced back at Snape and made a face of consideration. “...An hour, I should say. If it takes longer than that, then I’ve rather lost my touch.”

“Alrighty.” I said, tightening my backpack straps nervously as I stared at the hole. “Oh god…”

“Scared, Potter?” Snape drawled.

“ _ Ksst _ , shut up.” I growled, then I blew out a heavy breath. “Fuck it.”

Then I crossed my arms and jumped into the hole. I gasped sharply as I fell into a freefall, the panicked thought - _ I’ve messed up and now I’m going to die! _ \- running on loop in my mind. The heels of my feet smacked against the edge of the tunnel as it slowly started to slope and, soon enough, my back was flat against the metal as the tube curved into a slide, catching my momentum. Remembering the unspoken rule of nearly every waterslide, I locked my ankles together as I slid downward.

Suddenly, the tunnel evened out, then shot me out into a clearing. I shouted in surprise as I fell through the air once more, only to get the wind knocked out of me as I landed roughly on the wet, slimy ground. I rolled over and tried to plant my hands to get up, then hissed as something sharp cut into my palms. 

_ Right, the skeletons _ , I mused as I looked out over the small clearing at the collection of deteriorating bones piled up on each other.

“Come on down, Headmaster!” I shouted. My voice echoed around me, bouncing off the stone walls.

This place was considerably darker than in the movie, I could barely see. Then, I heard a noise coming from the pipe I’d just shot out of. Wisely, I stepped away from the opening as I waited for Dumbledore to come out, wondering if his dismount would be as messy as mine.

I heard a slight ‘ooph’ sound, then Dumbledore flew out of the tunnel opening. However, once he met open space again, he seemed to slow in the air, then he floated down to the ground of the stone clearing, his slippered feet lightly touching down on the crushed up bones lining the floor. 

“Oh that’s not fair.” I said after he landed.

He chuckled, then directed his wand at the opening and the cage of roosters came floating out. As he turned, I noticed the back of his bright orange robes were absolutely streaked with dirt and other… unidentifiable substances. 

“Ooh,” I said sympathetically, “Does my back look like that too?”

My own clothes probably looked worse, I could already see filth all over my white sleeves. Plus, I could feel the back of my shirt was soaked, despite my backpack. 

“Ah, thank you for bringing that to my attention.” Dumbledore said genially. Then, with a flick of his wand, both of us were completely clean again. I could have sworn I smelled a lingering scent of lavender around me.

“Now, if you’d be so kind as to lead the way.” Dumbledore gestured a hand to the circular opening in the stone cavern. 

Weirdly enough, I recognized some parts of the tunnels from the film as we made our way deeper and deeper beneath the school. When we passed the giant shedded snake skin, I had to hold back a gasp upon recognition. I hoped that Dumbledore thought that my reaction was just from shock if he’d noticed my muffled noise. 

Soon enough, we arrived at the large, metal door that led to the actual chamber. I turned and nodded to Dumbledore, “This is it.”

I turned back to the door and hissed at it to open, finding Parseltongue coming to my lips more easily than before.

Sure enough, exactly as it had in the film, the door made a loud groaning sound, and an animated, metal snake began slithering across the seal of the door, disengaging the locks as it passed. I heaved a deep breath to calm myself as the door swung open, then walked toward the opening. There was an old, metal ladder there, leading down to the chamber. I climbed down quickly and made my way down the long corridor, kicking up water with each step. 

“Adeline! Wait!”

I froze and turned back around to where Dumbledore was striding across the stone floors toward me, still levitating the cage of roosters behind him. 

“Is this where the basilisk lies?” He asked, looking up at a towering, carven statue making up the entire opposite wall.

“Yeah, it’s in the mouth, there.” I said, pointing to stone-Slytherin’s mouth.

“Then I must ask for you to stand behind me when you call for it.” Dumbledore said.

_ Right… call for it. _

I still didn’t quite remember what the hell Tom Riddle said to call on the basilisk in the movie, nor did I remember what was written in the book. All I remembered was one of the nonsense noises that the actor had made sounded sort of like “sa-lee-thay”, but that was all.

Shaking my head in annoyance, I focused on one of the large snake statues and hissed out the sounds. Hoping that I would understand what the words meant if I said them aloud.

“ _ Ssssalee-thay-ine… _ whoa, hold on!” I almost startled myself.

I ignored the odd look Dumbledore gave me, and looked down, muttering to myself. Somehow, I had just said  _ “speak to me, Slytherin” _ in Parseltongue. 

“Speak to me, Slytherin…” I muttered in English, trying to remember the rest of the chant from the book. “-Greatest of the Hogwarts four!”

I was actually shocked- legitimately shocked at myself, that I’d actually been able to remember the damn line. I clapped my hands together in victory.

“Alrighty! Get the roosters ready, Dumbledore!” I called wildly.

“Close your eyes, Adeline.” He warned.

“Right, right! Will do.” I replied, then concentrated on my words.

I reached out and hissed,  _ “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!” _

All of a sudden, I heard a great, grinding sound, like stone scraping across stone. 

“Here it comes.” Dumbledore warned lowly.

I screwed my eyes shut and backed behind him.

It all happened so fast. One moment, I could only hear the grinding of stone, then the next, a low, wordless hiss that seemed to vibrate in my chest.

Then,  _ “Who summons-” _

I strained my ears to try to hear the low voice, then, all of a sudden it was cut off by the loudest cacophony of rooster crows. I flinched at the volume of the noise right beside me, but it couldn’t mask the shrill, animal shriek that came next in the direction of the statue- then a loud  _ ‘thump’ _ , and a splash of water.

Then silence.

“So, is it dead, or what?” I asked, my eyes still closed and leaning into Dumbledore’s back.

Above me, Dumbledore gave a light laugh. “Yes, I do believe it is. You may open your eyes, Adeline.”

I opened my eyes to see a massive snake lying prone- dead, right in front of us. Its eyes were closed, thank god, and it had landed on the flooded floor just past the opening of the statue that it had slithered out of. It wasn’t even fully outside of the little tunnel leading out of stone-Slytherin’s mouth; it seemed that Dumbledore had made his move and killed the beast before it even had a chance to completely exit the tunnel at all. Smart guy.

“Holy shit.” I breathed.

Dumbledore chuckled again. “Indeed. Though I must ask for your sentiments to be conveyed in a more, school friendly verbiage.”

“Sure, sorry.” I replied, half in shock, still staring at the massive snake.

“Now, I do believe that the basilisk’s fangs are what you’re after?” He prompted.

“Right!” I shook my head to try to wake myself up. “Right.”

I moved out from behind Dumbledore and wandered over to stand over the snake’s head. “We should probably grab a few to bring up to your office or something- have some at hand. But my plan is to leave most of the fangs down here since no one can really access the Chamber of Secrets without my help, or without me telling them what to say in Parseltongue.”

“Very true.” Dumbledore replied. “I believe we are in agreement.”

“So, uh, how do I get ‘em out?” I asked.

“Ah! Allow me to do that for you.” Dumbledore said, coming forward and brandishing his wand.

With a graceful flick and a twist of his wrist, a fang popped free from the basilisk’s slack mouth, a thick stream of blood oozing out of the hole it left.

“Huh.” Was my only observation- a noise of grossed out interest.

After Dumbledore had pulled out five fangs, he stopped and levitated them into my backpack (it ended up coming in handy after all!). I followed him back toward the door of the Chamber, then paused as I noticed the rooster cage. All but one rooster was lying dead on the floor of the enclosure.

“Ah, yes.” Dumbledore murmured when he noticed my gaze. “An unfortunate result of facing a basilisk. However, I do believe the sacrifice of these roosters was not in vain.”

I snorted at the graceful eulogy for the chickens. 

“I’d have gladly killed all of them myself if it accomplished the same thing.” I said wryly.

Dumbledore stopped in his stride, then turned back to give me a grave look. “You shouldn’t take death so lightly, Adeline. I worry for you sometimes.”

I threw my head to the side and gave a halfhearted eye roll. “Oh come on, I’m being logical. This basilisk could have killed everyone in the school. If a couple dead chickens is all it takes to get rid of such a monumental threat, then I’m glad to pay for such a small price.”

Dumbledore continued walking as he replied to me, his voice a little lighter, and the methodical tone of a teacher taking over his words. “I agree with the logic of that statement. However, it does not do the mind good to become desensitized to such a…  _ payment _ .” 

“What do you mean?” I asked, surprised that I was genuinely interested.

“The protection of innocents can never be a bad thing, Adeline. Although, you must be mindful of what you risk in such an endeavour, and pay that risk the respect it deserves.” He explained.

“...So… respect the chickens?” I said haltingly.

Dumbledore gave a light laugh. “Respect their deaths. Respect that we have made the choice to risk our lives and those of the roosters in order to protect the innocents of Hogwarts from a terrible fate. Now that we have accomplished our goal, we should not forget those who were lost in the act.”

I nodded, the point finally getting across. “Be mindful of what we risk and lose, and respect that.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore said. “Compassion and mindfulness are the tenets of a wise witch or wizard, remember that.”

I hummed in reply, still turning Dumbledore’s words over in my mind. Even after we left the Chamber, I was still thinking about the Headmaster’s philosophy. I found it interesting, and I planned to reexamine his words in the morning, with a newly refreshed mind. I could probably use this newfound information somehow in the future. 

Snape met us at the entrance to the tunnel, staring at me unimpressed as Dumbledore finished levitating me and our lone surviving rooster up and out after I had stared into the entrance tunnel in confusion for about five minutes, trying to remember how Harry, Ron, and Ginny had escaped the Chamber of Secrets in the film. I easily closed the sinks back up, hiding the Chamber once again, and followed Dumbledore back up to his office as Snape left to go back to the dungeons. 

I stood awkwardly in the doorway of his office and adjusted my backpack on my shoulder. “Um, where did you want the basilisk fangs?”

“Ah, yes!” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I’d almost forgotten. Open your backpack, if you’d please?”

I slung the bag off my shoulder and pulled the zipper open, exposing the five fangs inside. Dumbledore levitated them again through the air. I watched as he floated them over to a golden box on one of the shelves, just below the dormant Sorting Hat. Dumbledore pressed his hand to one of the sides of the box and, with a shimmer, the side of the box turned transparent, and Dumbledore passed the fangs through. As the box turned solid again, I noticed that he’d been one fan short.

I jerkily looked back down into my bag and, sure enough, there was a single basilisk fang left inside, sitting on top of my Invisibility Cloak. I looked back up to see Dumbledore smiling at me knowingly, his eyes twinkling.

“Now, Adeline,” Dumbledore sat down at his desk and addressed me again, “I believe we should have a little talk.”

A pause.

“We… we  _ literally _ were just talking.” I said. “Like an hour ago, right here, then again in the Chamber, about the chickens and respect and all that… Are you sure you’re all there?” 

Dumbledore gave a light laugh. “Please, sit. We still have your end of our deal to get to, after all. The deal which you were so insistent upon making with me.”

“Riiiiiight.” I replied.

A pause.

“What- what did I say I would tell you, again?” I asked. “Sorry, I just- I’m still a little… frazzled from, uh, just now, with literally killing a basilisk and all that.”

“Of course.” Dumbledore said understandingly. “Here, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some calming tea?”

I nodded as I sat down across his desk. 

“That’d be great, thanks.” I replied, a sudden wave of fatigue falling over me- adrenaline crash, probably.

With a wave of his wand, a gilded tray appeared on his desk, with a matching tea set atop. I watched blankly, resisting the urge to just shake my head roughly to try to get my mind back on track. After being certain that Dumbledore didn’t slip anything into my drink, I grabbed the steaming teacup and chugged the whole thing, tears coming to my eyes as the drink burned my throat. When I plopped the cup back down on the desk, I looked up to see Dumbledore staring at me with an expression of vague confusion and concern.

“Are you alright, Adeline?” He asked carefully.

I forced a cough, then cleared my throat. “Yeah, I just needed to do that.”

I was being honest, I really needed to get my own bloody attention on the matters at hand. The slight burn in my throat quickly woke me up and got me alert again for the upcoming conversation. The specifics about our deal was coming back to me now.

“So, you want info about Malfoy, right?” I added before Dumbledore could say anything. “As I said before, Malfoy wants you kicked out of Hogwarts and he had a fairly effective plan to accomplish his goals- before I stepped in.”

“If I may,” Dumbledore interjected, “Why  _ did  _ you derail Lucius Malfoy’s scheme?”

I pursed my lips.  _ I suppose I could tell him, maybe Dumbledore would trust me a bit more at this honest admission. _

I huffed a sigh. “I weighed the pros and cons of interfering, and I concluded that more harm would be done if I let events go on how they were set out to. The specific way I interfered made it so that I… probably… wouldn’t make the timeline worse.”

Even though I lied to people every day, I had a weird thing about telling the truth when I resolved to. It was like this: either lie or tell the whole truth, there was no “in-between” with me, call it some weird form of honour. I had to add the ‘probably’ in there, since I didn’t know for certain if hiding Tom Riddle’s diary would do more harm than good, but so far, much less damage had been done to the school and its inhabitants than if I had let the horcrux roam freely. 

“And would you consider interfering in this manner again if you thought you could stop more harm from coming to pass?” Dumbledore asked.

I nodded. “Easily. However, I plan to keep to the timeline I’m aware of.”

“To make it easier to predict?” He concluded.

I sneered ruefully before I could stop myself. I’d said too much just in that one exchange, now Dumbledore knew I was trying to manipulate events in my favour- and possibly much more about my character than I’d wanted to reveal to anyone.

“Back to the deal.” I said flatly, annoyed and embarrassed having been manipulated so easily. “I told you that I’d recount what happened during my encounter with Malfoy and how he planned to kick you out of Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore gestured for me to continue when I paused.

“Uhhhhhh, long story short,” I started, thinking over the exchange at  _ Flourish and Blotts _ , “Malfoy tried to start a verbal fight with the Weasleys in Diagon Alley to use as a distraction while he slipped a very specific book into Ginny Weasley’s bag. He intended for this book to go to Hogwarts with the girl and wreak havoc on the school.”

“What kind of havoc, Adeline?” Dumbledore pressed.

_ Ugh, I couldn’t just be vague here, could I? _

“This book…” I paused as I tried to think of what to say, “...can possess people. I don’t know how much Malfoy even knew about it, that it could control others- or maybe he just knew it was full of dark magic and that was good enough for him. Anyway, not sure on that front, all I know is that he knew he could use it to further his own agenda in some capacity.”

“The attacks were supposed to get so bad that the Ministry was starting to inquire into the school, even though the situation was being covered up from the papers- I assume that you would have had a hand in that.” I added. “Malfoy is on some board of governors, and he used his influence to threaten the other governors to sign a form that dismisses you from your position as Headmaster.”

I made an annoyed gesture with my hand. “I really don’t remember the details of how that all happened, but you ended up discovering that Malfoy threatened to  _ ‘curse their families’ _ or whatever, but that got him off your tail afterward.” 

Dumbledore sat back heavily in his throne-like chair with a sigh. 

“It astonishes me how detailed your foreknowledge is.” He said tiredly. “I trust you now know the new path of events that are to come, now that you stopped this from happening?”

I paused. “...No.”

Dumbledore’s head dropped to the side in confusion. 

“Perhaps you could tell me a bit more about your precognition, Adeline?” He said hesitantly. “I’m confident that I will be able to help you much more effectively if I was aware of the scope of your power.”

I was already shaking my head before he could finish. No way, no how. I knew I would not be telling  _ anyone _ of my true origins and knowledge unless I had absolutely no other choice and was at rock bottom- and that would be a dark day indeed.

“Sorry, but that’s not part of the deal.” I said sharply. “Anyway, that’s about it on Malfoy’s plans. Although, as I said last week, he’s probably got some new scheme to try out, one that I have no knowledge of.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave. “Thank you nonetheless, Adeline.”

I gave him a flat smile in reply. 

“Now, it’s quite late.” He said, his voice lightening considerably as he looked at an ornate clock on the wall. “I’m sure you’d like to get some rest.”

He held up a finger, as though a thought just came to him. “And I do believe that you deserve a day free of classes after this ordeal.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. Was he bribing me or something?

“I wouldn’t say no to the opportunity to skip class without getting in trouble.” I replied smoothly.

“Lovely.” Dumbledore smiled and clapped his hands together as though punctuating the decision. “I shall send a notice to your teachers in the morning, and you, my dear, shall be off to bed!”

I nodded awkwardly at the mood change. “Cool… uh, goodnight, professor.”

I stood up and slung my backpack up on my shoulder, and was momentarily reminded of the basilisk fang inside. I had been surprised that Dumbledore trusted me enough to leave it in my possession- though it was probably just some ruse to manipulate me again. 

“Goodnight, Adeline.” He replied.


	17. Many Unhappy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of second year hath come, now it's time to return to Privet Drive... and all its inhabitants.
> 
> Additionally, a very dramatic scene that takes up half of the chapter.

My return to the Ravenclaw common room after my talk with Dumbledore had been uneventful. I’d escaped any notice of the patrolling teachers and prefects under the Invisibility Cloak. As much as I would never admit out loud, the headmaster had been right about one thing, I did need rest. As soon as I entered my dorm, I slipped off the Cloak, tossed my backpack under my bed, then passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

I slept well into the afternoon, only being awoken once for breakfast by my dormmates. I’d scared them off easily enough, telling them I’ll get down to the Great Hall later, not having the will or energy to explain to them that I had a day off classes, nor did I feel up to thinking up a believable enough lie as to why. Funnily enough, even though I shouldn’t care one whit about my schoolwork, I felt momentarily gladdened that I didn’t have a potions class to miss that day, because it would be so in character for Snape to set some horrendous homework assignment on the one day he knew I would miss classes. With that humorous thought in mind, I went back to sleep for another five hours.

I stayed in the Ravenclaw common room for the rest of school hours, peacefully getting ahead on some homework. Really, this day was just dandy, I was barely doing anything. There was still two months left of school- and I’d already knocked off everything on this year’s to-do list. With Hermione still not speaking to me, I was going to be so goddamn bored. 

I wouldn’t bore you with the plodding details of the next two months. Suffice to say, I had much more time on my hands now that I didn’t have to do unnecessary study sessions with Hermione, or listen to her problems, or help her with homework, or take about assignments, or-

Okay, maybe I was missing her a little. 

It’ll pass, I’d tell myself. No matter how melancholic I would get, my logical side was still aware that Hermione would probably come around again. I’d have to do some groveling, and possibly let myself be strong-armed into disclosing some future events that I wouldn’t necessarily reveal on my own terms. Still, doubt came up and nipped at the back of my mind every so often when I would see Hermione being friendly with the other kids in our year. It seemed that she’d taken it upon herself to make some new friends. I hoped that what artificial relationship I’d constructed with her for the past year and a half still meant something to her. 

I’d already tried talking to her a few more times, but she’d either verbally rebuff me or simply shoot me a glare then walk away. My own pride kept me from trying to plead with her to forgive me any more. My pride was certainly a problem sometimes, I could clearly see, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care to try to gain some humility. After all this time, my pride was about the only thing of myself I had left. Somehow, over the years, I’d ended up changing more than what made me comfortable in my time as Adeline Potter. I no longer had my own body, my family, or my friends. I’d become underhanded, manipulative, and cunning. I’d closed myself off from minor stressors that had plagued me during my first life, and felt that nothing short of life threatening warranted my attention nowadays. 

I sighed as I rolled up my potions essay with an unnecessary flourish, betraying my irritation. All the writing and theoretical aspects of classes were unbearably easy for my adult mind. During my first ten years as Adeline Potter, I’d actually missed high school so much that, once I arrived at Hogwarts, I was happy to be given writing assignments. Weirdly, the essay lengths weren’t measured in pages, word count, or paragraphs, but length of parchment. Because of this method of measurement, I could practically have any bloody essay layout I wanted as long as it met the length requirement- although, my essays usually far exceeded it. In some cases, I’d written so much that both Snape and McGonagall had docked marks for my paper being too long at some point each. 

Anyway, I was pretty good at keeping myself occupied for long stretches of time- courtesy of the conditioning of the Dursley house- so other than brief melancholia about my now brittle relationship with Hermione, I was doing quite well. 

Although, there was the attention of one person that I was actively trying to avoid during those two months. Because I had thwarted the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets, the course of events that would have led to Lockhart losing his mind would sadly never happen. So, I had to deal with the man all the way up until final exams. Eventually, after weeks and weeks of Lockhart pestering me to team up to do a book based around his gallant mentorship of me, I ended up just snapping at the man and called him a “motherfucking dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut if he knew what was good for him”. 

After I calmed myself down, I ended up explaining to him in hissed tones that I knew that he was a complete fraud and would expose him to the entire wizarding world unless he left me alone forever and subsequently left Hogwarts at the end of the current year. Suffice to say, the man didn’t try to pick up a conversation with me after classes anymore. Though, the downside of that was Lockhart tried to fail me however he could during that last month of school.

When exams came around, Hermione still wasn’t talking to me, unfortunately. I tried sitting next to her during the writing portion of our transfiguration exam, but her eyes were only on her parchment the whole time. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. 

Not that I’d ever admit it, but I was only able to muster the mental energy to try to talk to Hermione again on the train back to London. 

I breathed in a calming breath before opening the compartment door. At one bench, Ron and Ginny Weasley were in the midst of conversation, but looked up when they heard the door. At the other bench, Hermione was sitting with her nose in what looked like a lexicon book of charms on her lap. She finally looked up when I cleared my throat.

“Look,” I said sedately, a little hopeless at this point, “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to keep things from you and basically use you.” 

Hermione huffed a sigh and shut her book loudly. “You didn’t  _ ‘basically’ _ use me, Addie, you  _ actually _ used me.”

I gritted my teeth and held back a snarl of annoyance at myself for choosing the wrong damn thing to say again. 

“I was really hurt, Addie.” Hermione continued. “I- I thought that you were my friend, that I was the one person to actually know the mastermind behind all your schemes.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion and opened my mouth to debate the term, but Hermione carried on before I could speak.

“After a lot of thinking and soul searching- and thank you for giving me that space, by the way-” She added, “I’ve realized now that I held you up on a pedestal and expected a lot from you, and I’m sorry for that.”

Okay, now I was really perplexed. My head tilted to the side in confusion reflexively.

“So… what I really want to say is…” Hermione added, some hesitation in her tone, though I couldn’t tell why. “Can we just start over, somehow?”

I had no idea where Hermione’s earlier anger had disappeared to, and frankly, my paranoia made me suspicious of this out-of-the-blue offer to renew our friendship. She must have worked through something on her own during those two months of radio silence between us. I glanced over at Ron and, to my surprise, he had a look of satisfaction- as though he wasn’t surprised by anything Hermione had said. What was going on here?

Carefully, I edged into the compartment and slid onto Hermione’s bench, but stayed perched on the edge hesitantly. 

“How about I cut you a deal?” I asked carefully, pushing the conversation near more personally familiar territory. “I’ll tell you important information in advance, so you have agency in my plans. Now, I can’t tell you everything, you realize, because some information is very time sensitive and will definitely result in people out to get you if I tell you the wrong thing too soon..”

I paused and examined her face. Hermione nodded sharply, her expression serious and seemingly more understanding than last year.

“You cannot tell anyone else what I tell you.” I added, then glanced at the Weasleys- who were trying very hard to seem as though they weren’t listening to the conversation happening a few feet away from them. “In return, you tell me when you’re feeling used. I don’t want you harbouring feelings of resentment and anger if I can help it, Hermione. Everything will go a lot smoother if you just communicate with me.”

Hermione looked down at her lap and flipped the pages of her book absently as she listened. 

“I think that’s a good deal.” She said finally.

She gave me a shy smile, edged with regrets and thoughts that I probably could never divine. “Shake on it?”

I grasped her hand firmly with a smile in reply. “It’s a deal, then.”

“Well, thank Merlin that’s over!” Ron interjected with sarcastic cheer. “If I had to listen to any more ravings about  _ integrity _ , I’d’ve tossed myself to the giant squid!”

A shocked laugh broke out of me at his words. 

“Thank you, Ron.” Hermione said flatly, then turned to me. “Though, I  _ am _ glad that we made up.”

My smile quirked at the edges at her words. In my opinion,  _ she _ was the one that had made up with  _ me _ , I never had any problem to begin with. Whatever, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, I suppose. 

“Me too.” I replied.

  
  
  
  


The ride back to London was nice. I wasn’t sure how I should feel about making up with Hermione and whatnot, but I was definitely relieved that I didn’t have to keep worrying about how to fix things between us.

My third year was coming up just after summer break, which meant that the events of  _ The Prisoner of Azkaban _ were about to come to pass. I was almost violently reminded of this fact when Ron brought out ‘Scabbers’ from his pocket and started feeding him pieces of fruit. I had to quickly hide my expression of alarm as I saw the hidden animagus, Peter Pettigrew, for the first time in the flesh. It took all of my self control to not either jump up from my seat and outright flee or snatch the rat from Ron’s hand and run to Dumbledore on foot. I had to remind myself that the timeline  _ must _ stay intact for me to be able to accurately predict the coming events. If Ron didn’t have Scabbers this summer, then Sirius wouldn’t see him in the photo of the Weasley family in the  _ Daily Prophet _ , and subsequently wouldn’t find the strength to escape Azkaban at all. 

I had to allow the timeline to continue as it was destined to.

With that morose thought, I waved Hermione, Ron, and Ginny goodbye for the school year. Even though I had gotten used to not talking to Hermione for the past two months, not seeing the girl at all would be depressing. 

Vernon greeted me with a grunt at the train station, I was momentarily grateful that the man even remembered at all to pick me up.

During the drive back to the Dursley house I tried to stay somewhat optimistic- after all, my schemes were going swimmingly what with having changed the timeline and successfully taking care of most of the resultant loose ends, then having progressed in my plans concerning Dumbledore, plus Hermione wasn’t mad at me anymore. However, I would have to wait another two months until I could progress with my plans concerning year three and all the events that would come to pass, which would make me unbearably anxious. 

Additionally, I would have to deal with the Horcrux I plastered into my bedroom wall. Out of all the risky choices I’d ever made in my second life, keeping Voldemort’s Horcrux in my room at the Dursleys’ was quite probably the most stupid and impulsive. The fact of the matter was, I had absolutely no idea what to do with the thing otherwise. I didn’t trust anyone else to keep the diary safe, Dumbledore especially, so the task would obviously fall to me. The house was somehow protected due to my blood- or, Lily Potter’s blood- so Voldemort wouldn’t be able to retrieve the Horcrux when he would regain his body, so it was the ideal place for me to keep it during the school year.

The thought crossed my mind that the diary may have a similar effect on people as the locket in the books, but I mostly ended up hoping that the Dursleys wouldn’t be close enough for them to be possessed in any way. Although, to be fair, it wouldn’t be too much of a loss to me if the Dursleys did end up getting themselves killed by the Horcrux. However, looking at Vernon, it seemed that the diary hadn’t really influenced his already unsavoury disposition. 

Maybe I could spend all my free time this summer thinking up better places to stash the diary, like an abandoned shack like where the ring Horcrux was hidden. Also, I should probably think up a contingency plan for in case our resident Horcrux ends up possessing someone after all. 

Vernon eyed me poisonously as I wheeled my trunk into the house. Since that one confrontation last summer, it seemed that his announcement of  _ “If I see any freakishness, I’m throwing you out!” _ was still in effect. I made sure to hide my wizarding books and materials under my bed behind my mostly empty trunk and stuffed the Invisibility Cloak into an empty pillowcase to conceal it. 

After I had successfully squirreled everything away, I paused and turned to look at my old, beat up wardrobe near the door- or, the direction of what was hidden in the wall behind the wardrobe. I squinted my eyes as though I would suddenly develop x-ray vision and see through the wood and plaster. However, I couldn’t see the Horcrux, and, more importantly, I couldn’t hear its whispers. It seemed that the plaster shell was still working in muting the infernal thing somehow. Although, I wasn’t sure whether it was my imagination or simply my dislike of the place, but my room still felt a few degrees colder than the rest of the house.

I took to doing my summer homework at night with a flashlight since Vernon nearly screamed himself hoarse when he spotted me drawing a herbology diagram on my bedroom floor one afternoon. 

Hedwig was out of the house most days- and nights, for that matter. The first week back, she’d been making the worst racket an owl could possibly create, probably intent on not repeating the whole “stay in my bedroom the whole summer and be super quiet” routine from last summer, and subsequently annoying the absolute hell out of Vernon. Eventually, I ended up making the man an offer that I’d keep Hedwig out of the house permanently because he was weirdly paranoid that I’d try to send letters to other “freaks” like me. 

And so the summer passed without much eventfulness. Surprisingly, I found myself glad to have so much time to myself sequestered away in my small room at the Dursleys. I was already tired of rooming with teenagers, and it’d only been two years out of six! Finally, I would be able to reflect on my plans and meditate with only myself for company, no more of nosy children whispering and giving me odd looks only after an hour of sitting quietly at the window with my eyes closed. I caught up on some sleep as well, something I was immeasurably grateful for. Besides, with the considerably less food I was given by the Dursleys, I found myself more lethargic than during the school year. 

However, during one such twelve hour repose in early August, I had a most disturbing dream.

I opened my eyes with a gasp to find myself in my childhood home, looking just like it had when I’d last seen it. With a shaky breath, I looked around the room in a daze. I was on the main floor in the kitchen, just down the hall from the front door. When I shot a glance toward the opposite wall, I could see the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, then the hall leading to the living room and basement.

Blinking away tears, I gave a weak laugh, mindful that I should be grateful for this opportunity to visit this house one more time, even if it was in a dream.

Wait…

I was dreaming. And lucid!

I hummed in amused surprise, I hadn’t had a lucid dream in a while. It always happened when I least expected it and I could never have a lucid dream when I tried to prompt one before bed. Perhaps I could conjure up my family and pretend I was back home- truly wallow in my utter despair that I would never return to my true home or see my family again.

“Jesus, I’m depressing.” I muttered.

I made my way over to the front hall, curious as to what I’d see if I opened the front door. Taking a breath and steeling myself as I grasped the handle, I pulled on the door hard, hoping that I would be met with the sight of my street. However, the door didn’t budge. I made an annoyed  _ ‘humph’ _ and jiggled the knob in irritation, knowing that the door probably still wouldn’t open. I clicked my tongue against my teeth in disappointment and turned back around to go into the kitchen, then paused…

There, in the mirror hanging in the front hall, was my reflection. However, it wasn’t the reflection of short, scrawny, black-haired Adeline Potter, it was me, 18-year-old Madeline Fischer, looking just like I did in the Mirror of Erised from last year. I gave a sad smile at my reflection and tilted my head, wishing I could just wake up in my own body after this dream was over.

“What I wouldn’t give to be this hot again.” I said flatly. 

“What wouldn’t you give?” A voice piped up from behind me.

I startled violently at the voice and whipped around toward the kitchen, where the words had come from. Wide eyed, I stared at the person who had intruded upon my pity party in alarm. 

“Well?” He asked.

“What-!” I yelped. 

I cut myself off and coughed awkwardly. “Uhh, why the hell are  _ you _ here?”

Tom Riddle gave me a charming smile as he tilted his head. 

I clenched my jaw in irritation, the bastard was even prettier than he was in the second movie. Riddle was dressed much like he was in canon, a nondescript Hogwarts uniform curiously lacking a house crest, his jet black hair nicely styled, and a shiney prefect badge pinned on his chest. Although, he looked oddly washed out, like someone had put a blue toned filter over him. 

“It’s just a dream, isn’t it?” He asked lightly. “I must be a figment of your imagination.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. 

Oh god, was the diary able to go into people’s dreams in the book? Was this something else I’d forgotten? It couldn’t be, I would have remembered something about Harry dreaming of Tom Riddle. The Horcrux surely wouldn’t be powerful enough to enter my dreams after a year of being buried in wall plaster in a muggle house. From what I could remember, the only way Tom Riddle was able to conjure a physical form of himself was because he was practically leeching the life out of Ginny Weasley to power himself. She had been writing in that diary for nearly a year, enough so that Voldemort’s soul could latch onto her like his wraith form had latched onto Quirrell in first year.

So, judging from previously established canon, the figure before me couldn’t possibly be the real Tom Riddle… hopefully. Plus, I’d had wacky dreams about other Harry Potter characters after I’d been reborn, it wouldn’t exactly be a new trend if I was dreaming about Tom Riddle. Perhaps because I’d been thinking about the damn diary so much during my waking hours, it had manifested in my unconscious mind as well. 

_ Ugh but what if it’s the real Tom Riddle! _

I huffed in a deep breath to try to calm my roiling thoughts.

“Okay,  _ figment _ ,” I said flatly, “This is a lucid dream, which means I should have control over you. So… fuck off or whatever.”

He made a boyishly disappointed face at that. 

“Well how do you know that this is a lucid dream?” He asked.

“Because I’m aware that it’s a dream, duh.” I said flatly.

“What if it isn’t a lucid dream but you’re still aware anyway?” He said. “I’m sure you’ve read that such a thing could happen.”

“Oh I’ve read so, have I?” I said flatly. 

Riddle shrugged good-humoredly, still seemingly unbothered by my abrasiveness. Surely the real Voldemort would be a little pissy by now, wouldn’t he?

“Okay, so why are you here, figment?” I asked dully. “Are my teeth going to fall out now?”

“Ah, yes, the common dream signifying the feeling of a lack of control in your life.” He said, shooting me a smile. “No, I don’t think that will happen... tonight, at least.”

I gave him a sarcastic smile in return, though it probably looked more like a baring of teeth. 

“Fun-ny.” I said, crossing my arms and leaning up against the wall. “Well, at least you’re cute, figment.”

Riddle gave a light huff of laughter. “Oh please, give me a name, won’t you? I’m afraid I’ll be a dreadfully boring fiction if you keep calling me ‘figment’.”

“Don’t you have a name already?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light as I posed that key question. 

Riddle furrowed his brow in a perfect imitation of ditzy confusion. “Well, I must have.”

“Having trouble remembering, doll?” I asked patronizingly as I pushed myself back off the wall and started walking toward Riddle. I clapped him on the shoulder as I passed, his taller height almost making the motion awkward for me. 

Abruptly, a hand around my wrist jerked me to a stop. Almost immediately I tensed up, but quickly forced myself to continue playing dumb and lazily looked over my shoulder at him in vague annoyance.

“That’s quite rude, isn’t it?” Riddle said. “I’m your creation, you should care for me more.”

I gave a genuine laugh at his words. 

“More of an accidental occurrence if anything, I assure you.” I said wryly, then looked pointedly at his hand still on me. 

“My apologies.” Riddle said sedately, letting go.

“No prob.” I replied as I continued into the kitchen. “Come on, there’s chairs in here… and maybe some food.”

“You can’t eat in a dream.” Riddle piped up behind me.

“Sure you can, you can do anything in a dream.” I said flippantly, opening the fridge and peering inside. “And usually whatever sensation you’re feeling is better than real life since your brain is constructing it all.”

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt a chill go down my nape.

“Would you like to test that?” A husky voice whispered into my ear.

I jolted in surprise, but two hands on my waist stilled me. 

“You- you need to stop.” I said, wide-eyed, still staring into the fridge.

_ Ooh, macaroni. _

“Obviously you’ve conjured me here for a reason, Madeline.” Riddle murmured, leaning more against my back and pressing himself into me.

Before I could stop it, a wordless squeak came out of my mouth in my shock, causing Riddle to chuckle lowly. I ducked my head in embarrassment at my flustered response. I tried to take in a deep breath to calm myself, then another, and another… though I realized that all I was doing was making myself pant.

I clapped a hand to my face in mortification, mentally admonishing myself. 

“You know you want to.” He whispered roughly as his hand moved down my waist.

“Okay!” I shouted, jerking away from him, then banging my knee against the front of the fridge. “You’re stopping! Right now!”

Now given a little more space to move, I turned around to address Riddle. Red faced and probably vibrating from the total panic I was feeling, I slapped both hands on Riddle’s chest and shoved him away. 

I pointed both index fingers at him. “That’s something we’re not gonna do.”

Then, the bastard had the audacity to look surprised! 

“I’m sorry.” He said, concern crossing his features and his demeanour changing completely. Riddle’s shoulders slumped, and, for a moment, he legitimately looked like he was upset. “I’m not really doing anything right, am I?”

“Huh?” I replied eloquently.

“I’m not a good dream figment at all!” He explained sadly. “I don’t have a name, I’m not acting right, and I can’t even make my own creator happy!”

My face crumpled into an expression of sheer confusion laced with incredulous anger. Riddle was really laying this character on thick. Not that I would admit it, however, if I didn’t already know he was quite possibly the Horcrux of the darkest wizard there ever was, I may have found the guy a little bit attractive. 

“Well,” I said dryly, unimpressed with his act, “Why don’t you calm down, first? Sit down at the table, and I’ll get something to eat.”

I turned back around to the fridge, but to my surprise, an apple pie was now sitting on the shelf in front of me. Curious, I poked it, and it was warm! Grinning, I grabbed the pie in the tin and brought it over to the counter and began cutting myself a full quarter.

“Fuck yes, mum’s homemade apple pie for the win.” I said to myself.

“Do I get any?” Riddle asked.

I turned around, and narrowed my eyes at him. 

“...Sure.”

I cut Riddle a significantly smaller slice, if only to be a dick. Then, for kicks, brought the pies over to the table on the fancy plates that mum only brought out during the holidays. I plopped down into my seat and immediately started inhaling the pie. Good god, it tasted just like how my mother used to make it in the fall. Momentarily, I felt tears prick my eyes at the memory, but quickly stomped the emotions down as I remembered just whose company I was in, real or not.

“So, why are you here?” I asked flatly.

Riddle paused in bringing a politely small piece of pie to his mouth and furrowed his brows at me. “I thought we already went over this, your subconscious created me.”

“No,” I said wryly, “We both know that’s not true, doll.”

A perfectly crafted look of helpless confusion crossed Riddle’s features and he opened his mouth to object, but I interrupted.

“Oh come on, stupid isn’t a good look on you.” I said flatly.

Riddle’s features hardened and he dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. 

“However did this notion come to you, Madeline?” He asked, his tone icy despite his effort to keep it polite.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the fact that my heart rate was picking up in anticipation for this conversation to go sideways. 

However, I wouldn’t let go of the game we were currently toeing. Riddle was still trying to convince me that he was a figment of my imagination, though I was almost positive that he wasn’t. He knew that I was catching on, but I would bet the house that he didn’t know the extent of my knowledge. I wasn’t sure whether he knew that I recognized him, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to name him to his face before he introduced himself properly in this dreamspace.

“Contrary to what you’ve probably assumed- judging by your current ruse- I know my own mind.” I said, giving just enough to inform Riddle that the jig was up. “Additionally, I know that you’re not part of it, Riddle.”

At that, Riddle’s face deadened immediately, losing any visible expression. I tensed at the dramatic change, somewhat caught by surprise as I realized that all inflection he’d been showing was fake. 

“Well done, now you’re just stuck in your own head with me.” He growled, then took on a mocking look. “Has everything gone according to plan?” 

I shrugged. “Right back at’cha, man, how’s your reconnaissance so far?”

Riddle leaned back in his seat with a catlike grin. “Surprisingly fruitful, Madeline.”

I opened my mouth to give him a doubtful retort, then I paused.

_ How does he know my name is Madeline? _

The realization was an abrupt shock to my senses as I froze completely, staring at the young dark lord in disbelief. I hadn’t had anyone call me by my real name in almost thirteen years- and I still wasn’t able to catch it when Riddle had been calling me Madeline to my face for the duration of our entire conversation! 

I heaved a deep breath in and bared my teeth at him as I barked my next words. “How in the  _ hell _ do you know my name!?”

Riddle huffed a laugh, then looked at me like I was a complete idiot. He licked his upper lip as he leaned forward, as though he was inviting me into a secret.

“Your mind,” He said with a dark amusement, “Is extraordinarily disorganized.”

My brows furrowed in confusion, causing him to laugh lightly- a grating sound on my ears despite the smooth sound.

“It makes it rather easy to catch the errant thoughts that run rampant through your head, especially when concerning  _ myself _ .” He grinned. “You’d be a terrible Occlumens with such a mind, Madeline.”

I stared at him in shock, breathing shaky as I tried to process just what exactly the hell was going on and the extent of how much I was fucked over by my own stupidity. 

“How much do you know?” I whispered.

“That would be telling.” Riddle said flippantly.

I huffed a sharp breath through my nose in frustration, glaring at him.

“Okay, so you know my name is Madeline, big deal.” I ground out, my mind working rapidly to try to find a positive spin on this mess. “When I wake up, you’ll still just be a dumb diary, you can’t tell anyone shit. Then I’ll dig you out of my wall and… throw you in a dump!”

I made a sharp gesture with my hand as though to accentuate my point, then caught myself and crossed my arms tightly. Throwing the diary into a dump would work, right? At my words, Riddle’s expression darkened. My eyes widened in surprise and I drew back. 

...Had I just given him more information than he already knew? He seemed so confident, like he knew everything!

_ Madeline, you dumbass! He was bluffing! _

I mentally cursed myself. Here I was, a big bad reincarnated dimension traveller, and I couldn’t even keep a level head under pressure! And worse, I’d just given away information to a man whose main goal in life is to murder me!

“Yes, you are a bit of an idiot, aren’t you?” Riddle piped up mockingly. 

I could only seethe in reply, angry at both myself and the Horcrux as I felt helpless. I had to get out of this dream before the madman could get any more information out of me. Then, I had an idea. Of course, I had no clue whether it would work to wake me up or just make everything worse, but at this point, all that was going to happen was that Riddle was going to talk more of my secrets out of me. 

Whenever someone has a nightmare, they usually wake up because they were so scared in the dream. I could only hope that the same logic would apply here. However, if the sudden appearance of the diary Horcrux and his subsequent trespass upon my person wasn’t enough to startle me awake, I’d have to go to the extreme… my worst fear. 

I breathed a deep, calming breath in, then shot a flat look at Riddle.

“You wanna know what I have to say?” I asked evenly, though my tension could clearly be heard. 

Riddle squinted his eyes at me patronizingly. “Do tell.”

I pushed away from the table and walked over to one of the kitchen drawers. I opened a drawer and stared blankly at the contents inside for a moment before sighing at what I was about to do. I tilted my head to the side to look back at Riddle.

“Fuck you.” I said flatly. “That’s what I have to say.”

He gave me an unimpressed look, clearly unintimidated.

“-And if you knew what I know…” I added, reaching into the drawer and taking out a large cooking knife and gestured toward him with it, “Then you’d be scared of me.”

I gave him a grim smile as he gave the knife in my hand a sharp, suspicious look.

“You can’t kill me with that.” He said derisively, crossing his arms. 

I rolled my eyes and turned the knife over in my hands so that the blade was pointed toward me. 

“Not not the plan.” I said. I could hear the anxiety creeping into my tone, wavering my words. If I took any longer to do this, I was going to end up chickening out.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, standing quickly from the table.

My head shot up to look at him as I heard the chair screech against the floor. It was now or never! My head was pounding and my vision blurred in all the excitement. Riddle was striding across the kitchen to intercept me, his face thunderous. Taking a sudden breath in, though sounding more like a gasp, my hand flew up and jammed the knife into the front of my own throat. 

I couldn’t breathe! 

It was all so sudden. Tears pricked my eyes at the pain and I stumbled backwards into the drawers. My hand was shaking, no, my whole arm was convulsing due to the adrenaline mixed with my own panic. However, my grip was still rigid on the handle of the knife, keeping it pierced through my neck. I could feel the blood flowing in rivulets down my chest, coating my hand, my clothes, and the tile floor of my mother’s kitchen. 

Suddenly, a hand fisted in my hair and pulled my upright, causing another bolt of pain to race outward from my throat. It was all too much. The agony of dying blurred my mind until my thoughts turned blank and all my awareness was on the kitchen knife in my neck, suffocating me. 

“Whyever would you do that, Madeline?” A voice echoed around me.

I blinked rapidly until a face sharpened in front of me. Riddle… glaring down at me with evil in his eyes. I opened my mouth, but no words came out, only clotted blood and the sound of my own gagging. 

I felt his hand close over mine. In panic, I brought up my other to try to force him away, but my body barely responded to me now. I was dying. I was dying and I still couldn’t wake up!

Then, without warning, Riddle tightened his grip around my hand, wait,  _ around the knife _ , and  **_pulled_ ** .

My eyes shot open as I shrieked into darkness. My vision oddly failed, I scrambled to pull away from Riddle, clutching at my throat as I cried out. Then, the ground seemingly gave way beneath me as I tried to scuttle backwards. With a thump as my head knocked into something hard, I tumbled onto the floor, something soft tangling around my legs.

Suddenly, a bright light bursted into the darkness. I shrieked again in surprise as I clapped a hand over my eyes, the other still wrapped around the front of my neck to stem the bleeding.

“POTTER! What in the blazes are you screeching about!” 

I flinched so violently at the holler that I bumped into something behind me, causing another crash. I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the light. Then, Vernon Dursley… from the Harry Potter movies, seemed to solidify in front of me, standing at the threshold of an open door. Confused, I noticed Petunia and Dudley cowering behind him, also glaring at me. Dazed, I glanced around the room in bewilderment for a moment before my mind fully cleared. Then, I realized where I was. 

“POTTER!” Vernon shouted again, catching my attention.

“S-sorry, Ver- uncle, I had-had a nightmare.” I stammered, forgetting my persona for a moment. 

“When next time that happens I’m throwing you out into the yard for the rest of the night!” Vernon yowled, then slammed my door shut.

Left back in the dark, I gasped a shaky breath in.

Despite myself, I kept my hands on my neck, checking for the wound I knew didn’t exist. I shivered, belatedly noticing I was covered in sweat. After a moment of deep breathing, I shakily clambered to my feet, using my desk as leverage. Absently, I righted my small lamp that had toppled onto its side sometime during my hysteria, then I sat back on my bed.

I smoothed my hair from my face, my hands still jittery.

“Fucking hell.” I whispered to myself, still half in shock at the mental confrontation I’d just had.

Then, as though as a reply, I heard a barely audible  _ hissssssssssss _ , coming from the direction of my wardrobe. 

I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my sharp gasp of fright. I clenched my jaw shut to keep quiet as my shivering came back full force, then stared into the pitch black of my room at the diary hidden in the wall.

I wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.


	18. Addie the Dementor Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that keeping a Horcrux in one's bedroom may be a bad idea, but Addie wouldn't admit so out loud. Time for anti-diary countermeasures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire chapter in a day (back in September lol), I’ve peaked.
> 
> Sorry for the month-long surprise hiatus, but it was worth it to devote that time to my classes. I ended my law course with a ridiculously high mark so I don't at all regret taking a pause on this story. Thank you for your patience, here's the next chapter.

Needless to say, I had trouble sleeping after that night.

The diary never so much as uttered another hiss after that, but I wasn’t reassured. After knowing that the diary could somehow invade my thoughts and dreams, I didn’t feel safe sleeping in my room anymore, much less being in it at all.

I had taken to napping for hours out in the backyard on a little wooden bench near the birdbath. If I hadn’t been scared out of my wits, it would have been somewhat peaceful. When I wasn’t sleeping outside, I was walking around the neighbourhood to clear my mind. There was only three weeks left of August, which meant three weeks of little to no sleep and barely any food at the Dursleys until I could board the Hogwarts Express to salvation.

I could last.

Hopefully.

In other news, because Hedwig was banished from the Dursley house, I never really had an opportunity to get a wizarding newspaper like the Daily Prophet to find out when Sirius Black would escape. As the days dwindled down and September approached, I found myself anxiously looking into bushes and foliage whenever I was out of the house on one of my walks, trying to spot Black in his animagus form. 

Annoyingly, I had no luck. 

Then, there happened an event that I was quite familiar with; The Aunt Marge Visit which marked the beginning of The Prisoner of Azkaban. I was glad that the damn timeline was finally getting on again, I had enough waiting at the Dursleys, plus the abrupt appearance of the diary Horcrux wreaking havoc on my sleep schedule. 

This seemed to happen every summer. I would slowly become more and more anxious for term to start again, solely because, that way, I knew for certain my actions were important. I was paving the way of this whole reality- keeping it in line according to the mandated timeline that only I was aware of. Well… I suppose I wasn’t truly keeping the timeline accurate now that I took Tom Riddle’s diary out of the game prematurely. However, I was sticking to my guns that my action wouldn’t change the course of events too much. 

Anyway, I was broken out of my musings about the course of events of the universe when Marge snapped her fingers in my face and gestured brusquely at her luggage. Apparently the woman would be staying over in the Durselys’ guest bedroom for the second last week of summer vacation to spend some time seeing Dudley before he was carted off to Smeltings again. 

I had once wondered about what would have happened after Harry inflated Marge and sent her up into the stratosphere. I think there was a line in the movie that said Marge had been Obliviated, but what of the Dursleys? It amused me to think that they would have kept their memories and shivered in fear every time they saw Marge during the remainder of that week.

Regardless, that didn’t matter because I had no plans of doing anything to Marge. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that I had enough mental energy to do anything at all, much less say any snide comments. I was so exhausted from staying awake all the time out of fear of the diary that I was dead on my feet after the first week. Just two more weeks to go until September, I was nearly there. 

With a blank look, I picked up Marge’s bags and carried them slowly up the stairs. If I moved too quickly, I would lose my balance.

“And stay up there until dinner!” Vernon called after me.

“The girl looks dead tired, Vernon, have you been working her all day?” I could hear Marge ask snidely.

I couldn’t hear Vernon’s reply as I dropped the bags at the end of Marge’s bed in the guest room, though I could catch his simpering tone floating up the stairs. With a sigh, I stumbled into my own room- which had now developed a freezing cold temperature and a dark aura that made the space look as bleak as Azkaban itself. I clambered into my bed and wrapped my thin blanket around me to try to keep the magical cold away.

The diary was getting stronger somehow, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I never thought that I would ever be relieved to be called downstairs to serve dinner to the Dursleys. However, playing maidservant was leagues better than stewing in the magical radiation zone of a Horcrux that held a whole half of the Dark Lord’s soul. 

Dinner was over before I knew it. I had to be especially careful sneaking leftover food out of the crockpot while the Dursleys were eating, Marge had a keener eye than Vernon. 

“May I tempt you, Marge?” Vernon asked as he held out a bottle of brandy.

I reached around Dudley to get his plate and glanced at Vernon out of the corner of my eye. 

“Just a small one.” Marge replied, then turned to snap her fingers at me and pointed at her own plate.

I went and collected it without a word. Damn if my pride wasn’t battering at the walls of my brain to at least toss some tea in the woman’s face, but my body was bone tired from three days in a row with no sleep at all. Petunia had caught me napping outside the other day and had thrown a fit about the neighbours seeing, so I hadn’t been allowed outside since then.

I ignored Marge’s urgings for Vernon to pour the whole bloody bottle into her glass as I cleared everything away and retreated into the kitchen. 

“You want to try a little drop of brandy?” Marge cooed at her dog and bent over to hold it out. “A little drop of brandy for Rippy-poo?”

I rolled my eyes at the whole affair.

“What are you rolling your eyes at, girl.” Marge’s stern voice caught my attention again.

I stared at her blankly for a moment. “I saw a fly.”

Marge ‘humphed’ and turned back to Vernon. “Where did you say you send her?”

“We send her to Bonesborough Hall for Criminally Troubled Girls.” Vernon replied smugly, a lie of his own creation. 

“Well clearly something about the place has gotten to her.” Marge commented. “Last I saw the girl, she was mouthing off like she was being paid for it!”

Vernon and Petunia gave twin forced smiles in reply. They both knew that I wasn’t sent to a reform school, and that my lethargic demeanour was new. It scared them, and they didn’t know why. However, it suited their purposes to pretend as though they had something to do with it for now.

“-the cane at Bonesborough Hall?” 

It took me a moment to realize that Marge’s bark was addressed to me. I looked up from the dishes at her silently for a moment, until Vernon’s frantic nodding behind her caught my attention.

“Ye-es.” I said hesitantly.

“Excellent,” She said curtly, “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what’s needed ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Although, I do think the girl’s taken quite a few to the head, no real loss there.”

I let out a huff under my breath that would have been a laugh on another occasion.

Then, Marge continued on about what made a good woman and all that, talking about breeding and blood and whatever- like I didn’t hear enough of that shit from the Pureblood supremacists at Hogwarts.

As I stared at the obnoxious woman feeding her dog brandy, my hazy, sleep-deprived mind came to the most obvious realization. A tired sigh escaped my lips as I realized that I could have escaped this hell the day after my confrontation with the diary. The canon ending of this damn scene must have escaped me.

As though in a daze, I walked straight out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room.

“Oi! Girl!” Marge called after me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out.” I replied faintly.

I could hear her incredulous echo of my reply as I walked up the stairs. My trunk was already mostly packed, all I had to do was stuff some extra clothes and pyjamas into it, along with the homework I had been working on at my desk. I took my wand out and tucked it into my jacket for a quick draw in case of trouble, then grabbed Hedwig’s empty cage and carried my things back down the stairs. 

At once, Vernon swooped in at the bottom of the stairs, blocking my path. I had no patience for this today, or any day hereafter, in fact.

“I swear to god,” I said tonelessly, exhausted, “If you don’t get out of my way, I will kill you dead, you fucking bastard.”

I stared, eyes lidded, at Vernon as his face went from red, to purple in his anger.

“I won’t come back.” I hissed.

At that, Vernon drew back, a pompous smirk crossing his face. “Where will you go, freak? No one’ll take you in.”

I rolled my eyes, the simple motion making my head spin. “Not your problem anymore, now get out of my way.”

“Good riddance, Potter.” He growled.

I took a deep breath in as I met the evening air outside. 

Freedom.

I took my wand out of my jacket as I walked down the driveway. I paused a moment, then gave a shrill whistle. A moment later, Hedwig swooped down onto my shoulder out of the dark, nearly walloping me over the head with a wing. 

“Hedwig, I want you to go to the Leaky Cauldron, in London.” I said clearly.

Hedwig gave a hoot in reply and nibbled my ear affectionately, then took off, mussing up my hair more than it already was in the process. A moment after, I just stared at the owl’s fading shape in the sky as Hedwig flew further away. With a nod, I held up my wand to the street curb and waited. 

All of a sudden, I remembered that this was the scene where I would see Sirius! I gasped sharply and scanned the street in front of me, however, only houses met my eyes. I almost drew back in confusion, weren’t there supposed to be bushes? I almost smacked myself when I realized. Harry had walked for some time before seeing the dog. I remembered that there was a park behind Harry, and the swing set had suddenly started swinging in the wind to add to the tension of the scene. 

Ah, damnit! I was in the wrong place!

Though, before I could even think of moving, a large gust of wind barrelled past me, accompanied by a hulking triple-decker bus. I staggered a couple steps back in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Knight Bus just a few feet in front of me. Well, at least this time the damn vehicle didn’t almost take my head off. 

Then, the reedy-looking young man that I remembered from canon to be Stan Shunpike stepped jauntily out of the back of the bus and began reading off a small card in his hand.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” He started, “Emergency transpor’ for the stranded witch or wizard, my name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evening.”

He tucked the card into his jacket and glanced up at me.

“Well, little lady, come on then.” He prompted waving an arm at me to get on, then paused. “Ya got money, ‘ent ‘cha?”

I froze, then recalled that I did, in fact, have some cash left over in my trunk. I quickly turned the trunk onto its side and opened it to rifle through all my things. It was a little embarrassing to have hailed the bus without the fare ready, but I couldn’t actually remember a point in the movie where Harry paid for the Knight Bus.

“How- how much?” I asked when I found my money.

“Where ‘ya goin’?” He asked in reply.

“London, the Leaky Cauldron.” I said.

“Tha’ll be ‘leven sickles, but for firteen you get ‘ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ‘ot water bottle an’ a toothbrush in da colour of your choice.” He listed off. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll have the hot chocolate too, please.” I said and handed over the cash.

“‘Kay.”

I nodded sharply and started carrying my things over.

“Ah, ah, ah! I’ll get those!” Shunpike said, bounding over.

“Thanks.” I muttered, letting go of the trunk but carrying the empty owl cage onto the bus.

I could hear Shunpike straining with my trunk as he huffed loudly. However, I could only feel relieved that I wasn’t the one carrying the damn thing.

The Knight Bus looked the same as it had two years ago when Hagrid took me on, beds lining the bottom floor, rickety stairs at the back leading up to the higher levels, a chandelier hanging through the bus. I plopped myself down onto one of the beds near the front and watched Shunpike silently as he made his way up after securing my trunk. 

“Wha’s ‘ya name, anyway?” He asked.

“Maddie Fischer.” I replied easily.

“You ‘Merican, Maddie?” He turned to a small machine tucked into the corner beside the wall separating the driver and pressed a button. With a whirr, the machine began pouring out hot chocolate into a ceramic mug.

“Canadian, but close enough.” I said, sitting back against one of the posts of my bed.

I grinned as he handed me the hot chocolate and took a big gulp, then winced at the scalding temperature. Shunpike flashed me a smile as he cranked a little device hanging around his neck. With a ‘ding’, the machine popped out a ticket, which he then handed to me.

Shunpike knocked on the glass separating the driver’s seat and said, “Take ‘er away, Ern!”

My eyes widened as I remembered the ride I was in for, and quickly slammed a hand over the top of my mug. It seemed that I acted just in time, because the bus took off with a lurch and began streaking down the darkened street. I winced at the very hot, hot chocolate hitting my palm, but was grateful that it wasn’t currently poured down my front.

I hooked an arm around the bedpost I was leaning against to give myself extra leverage. 

“Where are we Ern? Somewhere in Wales?” Shunpike called.

“Ar.” Ernie grunted.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, something was missing. Ah! It was the weirdly rastafarian shrunken head from the movie! Upon reflection, I was somewhat glad for its absence. Seemingly unbothered by the chaotic lurching of the bus, Shunpike unfurled a damp newspaper and began reading.

I could see the front page from my vantage point.

“Sirius Black.” I muttered, finally seeing the man’s mugshot in person. 

It was just like it looked in the film, Sirius’s face was half in shadow, his mouth open in a silent scream as he struggled against the hands holding him into frame, another hand holding up a wooden plaque with numbers and unrecognizable symbols listed. His hair was matted and filthy, from what I could see from the collar of his shirt, his clothes were frayed, the only part of him that looked truly alive was his mad, shining eyes. 

“Scary-lookin’ fing, innee?” Shunpike asked, straightening the paper.

“Yeah.” I replied absently.

Poor Sirius. This time, however, I planned to keep Pettigrew trapped so that he could be brought to the Ministry. I knew exactly what would happen, and where Harry went wrong before me. I had already changed events before, what could stop me from doing it again? From making the timeline better for everyone? Especially Sirius.

“You ‘eard that ‘e was sigh’ed righ’?” Shunpike asked.

“I’d rather not talk about it, to be honest.” I said flatly. I was too tired to keep up the charade of a worried civilian, not knowing that Sirius was framed. 

Tightening against the bedpost, I carefully brought up my hand to sip at the hot chocolate, managing not to spill too much. 

“Sure, sure.” Shunpike said sedately, going back to reading the newspaper.

Around a rather sharp turn, I managed to spill half my hot chocolate across the floor. Shunpike only ‘tisked’ once and waved his wand and the mess vanished. 

“Watch it, we got two double deckers coming up.” He said, glancing out the front window.

I furrowed my brow in confusion and stood up to see where he was looking. Sure enough, the Knight Bus was going the wrong way down a bridge and two double decker buses were coming in our direction, side by side. Suddenly, Ern pulled a hand crank and everything seemed to slow.

I took in a sharp breath reflexively, expecting some sort of sensation to come over me as time seemed to slow. However, everything inside the Knight Bus continued on as though nothing was happening while everything outside turned sluggish. Bewildered, I raised my own hand in front of my face and waved it quickly to test if I was still moving at a normal speed.

Shunpike snorted. “Ev’ryfing outside just looks slowed down. We’re da ones sped up.”

“We’re sped up?” I echoed in confusion. “I can’t tell.”

“‘Course ya can’t!” He exclaimed as though it was obvious.

“What kind of magic is this?” I asked.

“Real complica’ed.” Shunpike shrugged. “We ‘ad to get some profesh’nal to do da charmwork. Anyway, may wanna hold onta somefing.”

I glanced back at the front and the muggle buses were almost touching the front grill of the Knight Bus. Ugh, I knew what was going to happen next. 

Sure enough, Ern pulled an accordion-looking handle from the ceiling and everything seemed to s t r e t c h. I could never accurately describe the most alien feeling of being pulled upward and elongated with the environment around me, it was as though the very air itself had changed its dimensions. I was glad that it only lasted a moment or so, and when the Knight Bus was clear of the two double deckers, it blasted off again down the street, sending me flying back onto the bed and up-ending the rest of my hot chocolate all over the sheets. 

The rest of the trip to London I spent in somewhat poor spirits after the novelty of the Knight Bus had worn off. I was exhausted and the bed beneath me was only torture because I couldn’t possibly fall asleep in the chaotic atmosphere that was the Knight Bus. I was antsy to get to the Leaky Cauldron and rent a room for the night. Additionally, it occurred to me that I still had to buy my school books for year three and I hadn’t even gotten the Hogwarts letter listing the materials yet. 

By the time we arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron, I could only nod to Shunpike and stagger off the bus. I entered the pub, dragging my trunk behind me, swaying on my feet, and immediately made a beeline for Tom, the barkeep, at the front desk.

“I’d like to rent a room until September first.” I said without preamble.

Tom paused in washing a glass and looked down over the counter at me and squinted his eyes. Suddenly, a look of realization came over his face as his eyes skated over my forehead.

“Ah, Miss Potter! It’s been some time since I’d seen you last!” He said happily.

“Eh, yep.” I said awkwardly. “Now I’m here again… and I’d like a room please.”

“Of course, of course!” Tom said as he bustled around the bar to grab a thick, leatherbound book. He slammed the book onto the table, causing me to jump, and opened it to a page near the end. “Ah, yes, room eleven is vacant. Until September first, did you say?”

I nodded. 

“Lovely, that’ll be seven galleons for the fortnight, Miss Potter.” He said with a smile.

I nodded and dug through my trunk again for the cash, the search this time being shorter because I’d left my bag of wizard coins near the zipper of the trunk after getting them for the Knight bus. I handed over the cash and Tom gave me a large brass key with the number eleven carved into the handle. I nodded at him and went straight to my room. 

I didn’t even bother to take off my shoes when I unlocked the room. I just nodded at Hedwig, who had inexplicably appeared at the open window, then fell into bed on top of the sheets. 

I woke the next day at two in the afternoon, a full sixteen hours of sleep. I dug through my trunk again for some wizard robes and got out the remainder of my money along with my Gringotts key. As I passed the desk in my room, I stopped short. That brown owl sitting beside Hedwig hadn’t been there yesterday…

I squinted my eyes at the owl, half wondering if it was a hallucination brought on by my not-quite-yet-stable mind. Suddenly, it hooted at me loudly, making me jump in surprise. Not a hallucination then. The owl stuck out its leg impatiently, drawing my attention to a letter tied to it… bearing the seal of Hogwarts!

I quickly took the letter off the owl and ripped it open, not paying the animal any mind as it squealed indignantly and swooped out of the room. As I thought, the list was much of what I’d expected, Intermediate Transfiguration, Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three, Intermediate Potions, and luckily, not one book written by Gilderoy Lockhart. Along with my regular course books, I noticed two extra books meant for my two new elective courses; Divination and Ancient Runes. 

I had purposefully chosen last year to not take Care of Magical Creatures because I knew that the course would be more trouble than it’s worth. One thing I certainly remembered from the books was the hell-classes that Hagrid had wrung his students through with blast ended skrewts and unnecessarily dangerous animals. As much as I liked the man, I didn’t like Hagrid enough to humour him so much as to take his class simply on the basis that he was the teacher. 

However, I kept Divination on my course schedule to promote my reputation of the “Girl-Who-Lived who was weirdly gifted in divination” in case I let anything else slip like with Snape in first year- call it a precaution. I also knew that Trelawney wasn’t a fraud, despite what everyone thought, and I could catch any prophecies from her that may result from my tampering with the canon timeline. 

I chose Ancient Runes to just give myself some variety, it seemed interesting enough, learning hieroglyphs and dead languages and all that. Additionally, from what I could tell, Arithmancy was just divination with math, so that put the class out of the running on that basis alone.

After I got dressed and ready to face the day (at 4pm) I bolted out of the Leaky Cauldron and went into Diagon Alley and made the quickest shopping trip I’d ever done before. I didn’t want to be recognized and subsequently tracked to the Leaky Cauldron, so I kept my head down as I bought my books and other supplies I needed for the school year; quills, ink, new robes, potions supplies and such. 

The freedom to come and go from my room at my leisure was refreshing, it reminded me of a week-long trip my friends and I had taken to Quebec after prom during our senior year. However, there was much less drinking, property damage, and general chaos at Diagon Alley than Montreal. 

Then, about a week into my two-week long stay at the Leaky Cauldron found me bumping into… Hermione Granger one morning. 

I paused as I registered my friend’s face. However, before I could say anything, her arms were around me in a chokehold of a hug and I was breathing in a mass of bushy hair.

“Hi Hermione.” I said wryly.

“Addie, it’s good to see you!” She said happily as she took my hand and led me down the stairs to the pub. “The Weasleys are here too, they arrived this morning just like I did!”

“Oh, that’s… fun.” I said, caught off guard. “You don’t seem that surprised to see me.”

Hermione gave a bit of a self-conscious laugh. “Well, we’d heard from the barkeep that you were staying here, but that you only come out of your room in the afternoons.”

“Sleeping in.” I explained.

“I assumed so.” She laughed again, then pointed to a section of tables. “Ah, there’s Ron! Everyone’s due to come down for lunch any minute.” 

Ron was seated at a long table by himself, seemingly holding a spot for the rest of his family. He smiled at us and gestured to some chairs near him. 

“Alright, Adeline?” He asked in greeting.

“Never better.” I replied easily. “You?”

At my question, Ron’s smile turned into a wide grin as he scrambled to something out of his robes. I glanced at Hermione in askance and she only gave me an amused expression in reply. Ron then slammed a newspaper onto the table between us.

“We went to Egypt over the summer!” He exclaimed. 

I raised my brows at his excitement and looked down at the moving photo of the Weasleys on the front page of the paper. This was the photo that Sirius saw Pettigrew in, the photo that motivated him to escape from Azkaban. How simultaneously intriguing and terrifying it was to know that such a small thing would set in motion events that could shape people’s lives- or, turn them onto the path toward the end. 

I looked up at Ron with a smile that I hoped showed interest. “That’s really cool! You need to tell me about all the stuff you saw there.”

All of a sudden, before Ron could reply, a large orange blur came racing onto the table and jumped into Hermione’s lap. Ah, it was her squash-face cat, Crookshanks. It seemed like I hadn’t seen the bloody animal in some time.

“Jesus,” I muttered in annoyance, brushing stray fur off my face, “Will you keep Crookshanks under control please?”

It was silent until I looked back up at the other two, who were staring at me; Hermione with an expression of surprise and Ron looking outright alarmed.

“What?” I asked.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, adjusting the cat on her lap. 

“This is Crookshanks, Addie, I bought him this morning.” She said pointedly.

It was my turn to pause.

“Oh.” I said. “And this is my first time seeing him?”

Hermione gave me a sharp look. 

“So, Ron!” I said loudly with forced levity. “Egypt was fun, huh?”

“Not flashing that clipping about again, are you Ron?” A boisterous voice interjected.

We all looked up to see the twins standing over our table with identical grins. The one on the left snatched the paper up and held it up for the one on the right to look at mockingly. 

“I haven’t shown anyone!” Ron said.

“No, not a soul.” One of the twins agreed sarcastically.

“Unless you count Tom-”

“-the day maid-”

“-the night maid-”

“-the cook-” 

“-that bloke who came to fix the toilet-”

“-and that wizard from Belgium!”

The twins sat down at the table across from us, seemingly content with the level of mockery. I saw the rest of the Weasleys following down the stairs into the pub. I identified Percy and Ginny, the former already in his Hogwarts robes with what looked to be a Head Boy badge pinned below his collar. Then came two older looking boys I didn’t recognize- must be Bill and Charlie, though I didn’t know which was which. Then, finally, Mr and Mrs Weasley. 

“Adeline!”

I stood from my seat at Mrs Weasley’s voice.

“Mrs Weasley.” I greeted the happy woman.

I nearly flinched when she put her hand on my cheek affectionately, the closest thing to that I’d had this summer was when Petunia smacked me awake when she noticed I was napping in the backyard. 

“Good to see you, dear.” She said. “Do you have everything you need for school?”

“Uh, yeah.” I said. Was this some kind of interrogation?

“Yes? All of your books?”

“Bought them last week.” I said, nodding.

“And all of your clothes?” She pressed.

I was beginning to feel somewhat insulted. What, did this woman think I was some sort of child- wait. 

Ah, I see… she’s parenting me.

“I have everything ready for school.” I said.

“Good girl.” She said warmly.

“Adeline Potter.” 

I looked up to see that Mr Weasley had also approached.

“Hello, Mr Weasley.” I said awkwardly, I hadn’t actually talked to the man yet other than that one time in Flourish and Blotts last year.

“Might I have a word?” He asked.

“Uh, sure.” I said.

As he led me to a smaller alcove in the pub, I remembered exactly which scene this was.

“I know about Sirius Black, by the way.” I said as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You do?” He asked.

I gestured to the wanted posters lining the walls of the pub. “Well, I’m not blind.”

“Plus, I know that he may be after me,” I continued, “And I have absolutely no intention of seeking him out or even leaving the castle for too long.”

“Oh.” Mr Weasley drew back, surprise evident on his face.

“Ah, I see, well…” He murmured. “It’s just- I heard about what… happened at the end of your first year and I’d assumed, well, that you’d be a little more…”

“Reckless? Looking for a fight?” I supplied.

He smiled in embarrassment. “An incorrect assumption, evidently.”

“It’s alright.” I said. “I’m grateful that you wanted to warn me, Mr Weasley, that was very kind of you.”

“Of course, of course, Adeline.” He said. “Ron and Ginny- and Hermione of course- have told me about you, and you seem like a sharp girl.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, I believe I’ve kept you from your lunch- or is it breakfast for you?”

Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and I all boarded the train together, seen off by the rest of the Weasley clan. Fred, George, and Percy had already run off to their respective social groups immediately after bidding their parents goodbye. 

We arrived at King’s Cross rather late, and nearly all of the compartments were already full by the time we boarded the Hogwarts Express. The others seemed a little put out, but I led the group through the train cars in high spirits, looking for a specific compartment. 

Finally, I spotted the car that was empty save for a slumped form in the corner of one of the benches. 

I put on a vaguely annoyed face and turned to the other three. “Let’s just go in this one, everywhere else is full.”

We filed into the compartment and I immediately took a seat beside Remus. Ron and Ginny took the bench opposite and Hermione, carrying her giant cat, sat on my other side.

“Who do you think that is?” Ron murmured.

“Professor R.J Lupin.” Hermione replied, very matter-of-fact.

“Do you know everything?” Ron asked sarcastically. 

Ginny snorted, glancing up at the shabby, faded suitcase on the rack above Lupin. “Learn to read, Ron.”

“What?” He asked.

Hermione pointed at the suitcase.

“Oh.” Ron muttered. “Wonder what he teaches.”

“Defense.” I replied.

Ron eyed Lupin again. “Well, I hope he’s up to it. He looks like one good hex’ll finish him off, doesn’t he?”

At Ron’s words, a surprised bark of laughter burst out of me. I clapped a hand over my mouth, looking over to see if I’d woken Lupin up, still giggling.

“That’s so rude!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Well it’s true, innit?” Ron said, gesturing a hand at Lupin. “Look at him!”

“Okay, okay, relax guys.” I chuckled. “Jesus, that was funny.”

“No, it wasn’t!” 

It certainly was more funny to me than it was for them. I was already aware of what Remus Lupin was capable of, and for someone to say the wizard equivalent of “he’d blow over from a stiff wind” was wonderfully ironic.

“Fine, Hermione, just chill. Now, let’s uh, let’s have some quiet time and let our new professor sleep.” I said. “Maybe I’ll have a nap too.”

The train ride passed calmly, for everyone else. I, on the other hand, was practically vibrating in my seat, on edge about the dementors about to board the train. A few times over the course of the ride, Hermione had asked me what was wrong. On the third time, I was about to brush her off again when I remembered my promise to her just a few months ago. 

Silently cursing myself, I leaned over and whispered into her ear that Dementors were going to board the train, looking for Sirius Black.

“Demen-!” 

I cut her off with a loud ‘shush’ and a pointed look. “I told you, didn’t I?” 

She took a shaky breath in and nodded.

“We’re going to be fine, don’t worry.” I said evenly.

“Worry about what?” Ginny piped up.

I turned to her, about to respond with a well-crafted lie, when the train lurched, then jerked to a stop. A moment later, all the lights in the train shut off, leaving us lit only by the setting sun in the distance. 

As soon as I realized what was going on, I turned right around to Lupin and began shaking him.

“What are you doing?” Ron hissed at me.

“Remus! Wake up!” I kept shaking him. “Come on!”

Then, he jerked awake, letting the cloak covering him fall as he looked around blearily.

“Morning, Remus.” I said with sarcastic cheer, though my voice wavered with anxiety. “Can you do a Patronus charm real quick? Thanks.”

He stared at me blankly for a moment, then looked around the car at the confused and panicked faces of my friends. I swatted him on the arm to get his attention.

“There are Dementors on the train-”

A gasp from Ginny.

“-And I need you to-” I jerked a thumb behind me at the compartment door, “-Go get ‘em!”

“Dementors?” He rasped, sitting up quickly.

“Yep!” I said, then quickly abandoned my cheery voice. “Get up, man!”

Just then, the temperature in the car seemed to drop all at once. Then, there was a small crackling sound. We all turned to the window of the compartment as ice began to form across the glass. The train shuddered again, throwing us all off balance.

“Everyone, keep back.” Lupin said sternly as he stood up and drew his wand.

“Come on, Hermione.” I said, cheery again. “Let’s hide over here.”

I scooched across the bench to the corner where Lupin had been sleeping and pulled Hermione along with me. I pushed her into the corner and shielded her from the door.

“This is ‘fine’?” Hermione muttered rhetorically, squished against the wall.

“Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts fighting the dark arts.” I said flippantly. “Real convenient.”

Hermione paused, then looked at me with a stupefied expression.

“You picked this compartment on purpose!” She hissed.

“Quiet!” Lupin interjected.

A glance across the compartment showed Ron and Ginny pressed to the walls just like Hermione and me. Though they looked quite a bit more scared.

Then, a dark, wispy shadow seemed to float at the corner of the glass door. It slowly grew larger until I could make out the frayed edges of a Dementor’s cloak, fluttering in an intangible breeze. The thing came fully into view as it hovered further down the corridor to slow right at the compartment door. A sudden wave of dread came over me as the Dementor’s hood turned to look into the compartment. 

“It’s going to open the door.” I squeaked anxiously. “Remus, if you don’t do a Patronus charm right this minute I will murder you, I don’t care if you’re a teacher, I will do it!”

“Calm yourself, Adeline.” He murmured.

Oh, of course he knew my name.

I watched, panicked, as the Dementor reached a gnarled, rotted hand out from under its cloak and grasped the handle of the door. Lupin brandished his wand at the creature.

“None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks.” He said at once in a stern voice. “Go!”

The Dementor didn’t move, it only turned more fully at me. My heart dropped.

It seemed that the temperature had fallen even further below freezing, all my limbs froze in place. The cold seemed to penetrate my entire body, freezing my heart and choking me from the inside out. My vision tunnelled, reminding me of the time I killed myself in my dream to escape the diary Horcrux that had burrowed its way into my mind. In fact, it was like I was experiencing that horror all over again, I was dying!

“Adeline Potter, my fated conqueror…” 

A thin, menacing voice seemed to echo in my ears. It was familiar enough that it evoked utter dread in my already fear-addled mind.

Then, all at once, it was gone.

The cold was replaced with an almost painful warmth, and the pain in my chest was… moved to my cheek. Then, I felt another sharp, sting of pain in my face. Someone was slapping me.

“Agh, Jesus.” I hissed, blinking my eyes open.

As soon as I spotted the blurry form of Hermione over me, her hand raised, I flinched violently and smacked her away.

“Were you hitting me?” I meant to shout, but my voice cracked halfway through my exclamation.

“Here.” 

I turned to my right where I heard Ron’s voice. Then, I flinched again as I felt something cold against my face. I realized I was feeling my glasses and grabbed them from Ron with a quiet thanks. My vision now cleared, I sat up to see that the lights were back on, and I was sitting on the floor of the compartment.

“Damnit.” I said tiredly. 

It seemed that the Dementors were equally drawn to me as they were to Harry.

A loud ‘snap’ made me jump. I looked up to see Lupin breaking a large chocolate bar into pieces. 

“Here.” He said handing me the chocolate.

On a regular day, I wouldn’t say no to chocolate. On a day like this, I jammed the whole bloody square in my mouth and began chewing like I was being paid for it.

“I need to speak to the driver, excuse me.” Lupin said after a moment.

I nodded absently at him as he cleared out of the compartment, leaving us in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hint for future timeline deviations!   
> Something about the Knight Bus scene will play a very big part later on- that’s all I’m going to say.


	19. 2020 Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, yet another year at everyone's favourite magical school, Hogwarts!  
> We get to see Professor Lupin in action and match up Addie's prophetic abilities against Professor Trelawney's!

I was in a garbage mood for the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts, as was the rest of the group. Ron and Hermione were wracked with shivers and Ginny refused to lift her face out from behind her hands and stayed huddled against her brother. Lupin came back into the compartment after talking to the conductor, though he didn’t talk much other than asking if I was okay. 

We parted ways from the professor when we left the train to board the thestral-drawn carriages to the castle. There were two more Dementors floating above the iron gates that marked the dirt path up to the castle. Just seeing the creatures made me feel queasy. I really had to learn how to produce a Patronous or else I would be completely shafted at the end of the year.

“Potter! Granger! I need to see you both!”

Hermione and I turned in the crowd of students in the corridor to see Professor McGonagall striding toward us, students parting around her like the Red Sea.

“Mr and Miss Weasley, you two hurry along.” She waved a rolled up parchment at Ron and Ginny as she spoke. 

We were silent as McGonagall led us to her office. Odd that McGonagall had seen to me and not Flitwick, as he was my head of house. 

“Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter.” She said as she sat behind a large, oaken desk.

I gave a wry laugh. “If you call almost getting the Dementor’s Kiss  _ ‘ill’ _ , sure.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened and she looked me up and down, as though she could somehow see how my soul was doing inside me. Before she could speak, however, the office door opened and Madam Pomfrey swept inside. 

“Well, I’m fine now.” I added as I spotted the matron.

“You again, Potter?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she came over to inspect me. “I thought you were done getting yourself into trouble after your first year.”

I threw up my hands in annoyance.

“It was a Dementor, Poppy.” McGonagall interjected.

The women exchanged knowing, dark looks with each other and Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval. 

“Setting Dementors around a school.” She muttered as she reached over to feel my forehead, to which I made a face. “She won’t be the first to collapse-”

“Okay.” I said, drawing back in annoyance. “I’m fine, I assure you. Professor Lupin already gave me some chocolate and I’m no longer hallucinating-”

“Hallucinating?!” 

“That was a joke.” I amended sharply, a stupid thing to admit in the first place. “But the Dementors  _ will _ be causing more trouble in the future, you should tell Dumbledore to be on his guard, especially during Quidditch matches.”

“ _ Professor _ Dumbledore always has the welfare of his students in mind, Potter.” McGonagall said sternly.

“Of course.” I replied sedately, not wanting to pick a fight. 

“Now, are you sure you feel alright, Potter?” McGonagall pressed.

“Yup.” I said flatly.

“Very well, kindly wait outside while I have a word with Miss Granger about her timetable, then we can go to the feast together.” She said.

I nodded and turned to leave, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey. Despite my claims that I was fine, Pomfrey insisted on taking both my temperature and my pulse in the corridor, then made me follow her finger with my eyes for a minute straight. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for McGonagall’s door to open again, Hermione bounding out with a smile on her face.

As we all walked down the hall, I glanced over at Hermione’s neck and, sure enough, I spotted a glint of gold hidden underneath her collar. I refrained from commenting, but gave her a smirk when she narrowed her eyes at me in askance.

“Oh,” Hermione said as we entered the Great Hall, “We’ve missed the Sorting.”

“Good, we don’t have to wait long to eat, then.” I replied and made a beeline to the Ravenclaw table. “See you later, Hermione!”

“Welcome, welcome!” Dumbledore announced as he stepped up to his podium. “To another year at Hogwarts! Now, I’d like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. Firstly, I’m pleased to welcome Professor Lupin, who’s kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, professor!”

There was scattered and uninterested applause around the Hall, though I clapped rather vigorously. Lupin stood up and gave everyone a somewhat nervous smile and a bow, his hands clasped at his front. Snape, sitting beside him, however, looked quite the opposite, bearing an expression of pure, unadulterated loathing as he stared at Lupin. This dynamic was going to be interesting.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued, “Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs.”

I snorted.

“Fortunately, I’m delighted to announce that the post will be filled by none other than our very own Rubeus Hagrid!” Dumbledore exclaimed. 

The applause for Hagrid was louder than that for Lupin, I’d noticed. Hagrid gave a huge, beaming grin to the entire Hall and stood up quickly with a wave. Unfortunately, he stood up so quickly that he bumped the long table and sent the silverware and empty plates and goblets bouncing. 

“Finally, on a more disquieting note,” Dumbledore added, though his tone markedly more grave, “At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban…”

Almost immediately, whispers erupted around the Great Hall.

“...Until such a time that Sirius Black is captured.” Dumbledore finished, as though he hadn’t heard the students. “The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I’ve been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution… Dementors are vicious creatures, they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you, give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of the Dementor to be forgiving.”

Dumbledore raised a hand. “But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light…” 

“Well,” He clapped his hands together loudly, “I think that’s everything of importance. Let the feast begin!”

  
  
  
  


It seemed that every year I checked the calendar, September first never fell on a weekend. Thursday morning, the first day of classes, found me examining my new timetable with cursory interest. 

I bounded over to the Gryffindor table to see Hermione surrounded by a gaggle of Weasleys, as usual. I plopped down in between Hermione and Ron and greeted them with a smile, then nodded to the twins and Ginny sitting across from us. 

“What do you guys have first?” I asked them.

“Ah, look!” Ron exclaimed, shoving a timetable at me. “Look at Hermione’s!”

I supposed Ron was cool with me now? I wasn’t sure whether the boy had just been making casual conversation with me these past couple of days, or he was legitimately interested in talking with me. I could easily tell that he and Hermione had gotten closer during those last few months of second year when Hermione had been mad at me, and they seemed quite good friends from what I’d observed so far. 

Though I had to wonder if Ron’s friendship with Hermione prompted him to try to be friends with me. Sure, we’d had some conversation during second year, but only casual and shallow- although, I considered most topics of preteen conversation to be quite shallow. Clearly, Hermione had said something to him.

I squinted my eyes as I looked over the parchment.

“I was just saying,” Ron continued, “This morning, eight o’clock, she has Divination, Muggle Studies,  _ and  _ Arithmancy! All at the same time!”

“Yes, I see.” I replied blandly.

“How’re you supposed to be in three classes at once?” Ron exclaimed.

“Don’t be silly.” Hermione huffed, snatching her timetable back. “Of course I won’t be in three classes at once.”

“So you’re on a rotation?” I asked, trying to help the poor girl in the face of Ron’s interrogation. 

“Er, yes, something like that.” Hermione said.

“You could just get the work you miss from someone else and you could ask for class notes, right?” I supplied. “Seems like you could do it.”

“ _ Thank you _ , Addie.” She said pointedly. 

“Whatever.” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I have Divination first.”

“So do I.” I said. “Shall we all go together?”

The other two agreed and we all marched out of the Great Hall and tried to locate the North Tower. 

  
  
  
  


“...In this room, you shall explore the noble art of Divination.” Trelawney’s airy voice sounded around the class.

I had been surprised, when we arrived at the listed classroom, that Trelawney’s class took place in some sort of attic. We stopped in the hall between rooms ten and twelve, looking for classroom eleven, then, probably by magic, a trapdoor swung open above us and a ladder swooped down, nearly taking off our heads in the process, and  _ thunked _ onto the flagstone.

“You shall discover if you possess...” Trelawney continued, standing from her rickety wooden chair, “The Sight!”

As though the universe wanted to punctuate that statement with a hefty dose of irony, Trelawney took a step right into the little tea table set in front of her chair, causing laughter to ripple around the heavily perfumed room.

“I am Professor Trelawney, and together we shall cast ourselves into the future!” She did a little imitation of jazz hands in excitement, grinning widely at us, her magnified eyes shining behind large, coke bottle glasses. “This class, we will be focusing on tasseomancy, which is the art of reading tea leaves. So, please, take the cup of the person sitting opposite you.” 

I shot a grin at Hermione at my table and reached over to grab her teacup. The tea we’d had earlier wasn’t that great, and admittedly I was pretty sure my tongue was burned from when I’d chugged the whole thing to get it over with. Hermione rolled her eyes at me and took my cup in return- it seemed that the girl had already decided that this class was a bust.

“You see, the truth lies buried, like a sentence deep within a book, waiting to be read.” Trelawney stumbled over to Seamus Finnigan, sitting at the front row in the room and clapped a hand onto his head. “You must broaden your minds… you must look… BEYOND!”

With a flourish, she whipped a hand up to gesture at some point toward the ceiling, her sudden movement causing some students to look back at where she was pointing.

“What a load of rubbish.” Hermione muttered.

“Give her a chance.” I said wryly, trying to keep the grin off my face. Trelawney was going to piss Hermione off  _ so _ much this year, and it’ll be  _ so _ entertaining.

Hermione gave me a sharp look. “You know something.”

My brows shot up in surprise. “How-”

“You have a face.” She said flatly.

I paused. “...I should hope so.”

She huffed a sigh, “No, I mean you have a specific face- an expression you make when you have mischief in mind.”

I snorted, then covered my mouth to stop myself from laughing outright. 

“Girls, are you quite well?” An airy voice caused the both of us to turn to see Trelawney standing over our table.

“We were trying to interpret our tea leaves, Professor.” I replied quickly. “Sorry for skipping ahead.”

“Ah!” Trelawney waved a hand as though lazily brushing away smoke. “Such eager young minds! Fret not, open your books to the section depicting your tea leaf symbols, class!”

Trelawney meandered away to the second level of classes, leaving Hermione and I to exchange looks- I was decidedly more amused then she.

“You, boy,” Trelawney suddenly pointed at Neville, who jumped, “Is your grandmother well?”

“I-I think so.” Neville replied hesitantly.

“The cup- give me the cup!” Trelawney whispered urgently to his partner, Dean Thomas, who handed it over.

Trelawney looked inside and turned the cup about ninety degrees, then made a face. “Oh, dear, I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”

She floated away, leaving Neville to grab the discarded cup and frantically look through his textbook.

“Alright, Addie,” Hermione sighed, “Come on, let’s  _ read our futures _ .”

I shot her a grin then opened my textbook to the symbol glossary. 

“Er, alright,” I started, glancing from Hermione’s cup to the textbook, then back to the cup, “You have some squiggly lines here which could represent waves, which mean…”

I glanced back at the textbook. “...Travel, or, interrupted travel… so your travel will be either interrupted or uninterrupted-”

Hermione scoffed.

“Oh relax.” I said absentmindedly. “Although these dashes here could also mean… brief travel, or being busy. Well, you’re gonna have a lot of travelling to do in the near future.”

“During the school year?” Hermione asked derisively. “Where will I be travelling to? The greenhouse?”

I chuckled, and shrugged my shoulders. 

“Who knows, you- oop, I found another one!” I cut myself off as I spotted another symbol in the cup. This was almost like a  _ Where’s Waldo _ game. “This blob looks like the symbol for a knot, which would mean stress.”

“Obviously I’ll be stressed, school’s just started.” She said flatly, then huffed a sigh. “Let me see to yours.”

The scowl didn’t leave her face as she brought up my cup to examine.

“There appears to be an… addition sign or an X, which have two entirely different meanings.” She turned the cup around to look at the leaves from a different angle. “There’s also a circle, which could be fortune’s wheel, meaning change or progress- or it could be a sun, which means happiness.”

She set the cup down with a little too much force on the table. “Or, it could mean a load of nothing.”

“Yes, thank you for that.” I replied wryly. “Wonderful bedside manner.”

“Ah- oh!” A sudden exclamation made me jump. Trelawney had crept up behind us while we’d been talking. 

“Your aura is pulsing, dear!” She said to me, completely disregarding Hermione. “Are you in the beyond? I think you are!”

“...Y-yeah.” I said. “Super beyond,  _ Star Trek Beyond _ , in fact, Bed Bath and Beyond, Beyond Meat, sometimes, to be quite honest- although, I think Hermione’s doing pretty well, too.”

Trelawney gave Hermione a measured look, then squinted her eyes at the girl. “Let me see the cup, quickly now.”

Hermione gave Trelawney the cup with a flat expression, clearly wanting to say something derisive, but stopped by her seemingly innate respect for teachers.

Trelawney took the cup- the one I knew should have a Grim in it- and turned it counterclockwise. “The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy…”

My brows drew downward in confusion before I could check myself. A falcon? The falcon symbol wasn’t in the movie. I was waiting on her big announcement that I had the Grim.

“But everyone knows  _ that _ .” Hermione hissed, catching Trelawney’s attention. “Well, they do- everyone knows about Addie and You-Know-Who.”

Trelawney didn’t reply, seemingly in a haze as she turned the cup around again.

“The club… an attack… dear, dear, this is not a happy cup.” She continued. “The skull, danger in your path.”

Well… I already knew all this. However, none of these symbols were mentioned in what I could remember from canon events. Was I forgetting some book stuff again? Or had I changed events so drastically that I’d made it worse on myself? All I could remember from the Divination class was that one nervous line from Ron in the third movie,  _ “You’re gonna suffer, but you’re gonna be happy about it” _ . What I wouldn’t give to hold my beat up paperback copies of the  _ Harry Potter _ books again just so I could check whether or not I was on the right damn track in this timeline.

The whole class was silent, transfixed as Trelawney spoke in a quiet cadence. Then, she turned the cup one more time, and gasped sharply. She dropped the cup onto the table and backed away quickly, holding a hand to her heart as though she might drop dead at any second.

“My dear…” She stared, her voice wavering, “You have…”

“The Grim, yeah, I know.” I said. Finally! Something that matched up to what I could remember!

Whispers erupted around the classroom.

“The grin?” Someone- I think it was Seamus Finnigan- called from the back of the room. “What’s the grin?”

“Not the  _ grin _ , you idiot, the  _ Grim _ !” Someone else corrected.

I glanced over to see who had corrected him. It was a Gryffindor boy, reading out of his textbook. “Taking the form of a giant, spectral dog, the Grim is one of the darkest omens in our world. It’s an omen… of death.”

Then, pandemonium broke out.

  
  
  
  


“You don’t think the Grim has anything to do with Sirius Black, do you?” Ron whispered beside me as we walked through the halls to Transfiguration. Hermione had broken off from us earlier, saying she’d meet us there- though I suspected that she was finding a secluded place to use her Time-Turner.

“I dunno.” I shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe, maybe not, who cares.”

“Who cares?” Ron echoed. “Everyone who’s seen the Grim’s died! It’s really serious!”

“Ron, everyone who’s drank water has died.” I replied flatly. “Now let’s get to Transfiguration, or we’ll get merked by McGonagall before the Grim even gets a chance.”

  
  
  


After lunch, I bade Ron and Hermione goodbye as they set off for Care of Magical Creatures class. Before they left, however, I pulled Hermione to the side and gave her some very specific advice.

“Okay, for class today, Hagrid’s gonna have a Hippogriff.” I muttered quietly, glancing around to make sure there was no one around. “The Hippogriff’s fine, all you have to do is approach it real calmly and bow- Hagrid’ll tell you guys how to do it.”

“Addie-”

“That’s not the part I’m warning you about.” I said quickly. “You need to volunteer first, Hermione. You need to volunteer to go approach Buckbeak when Hagrid asks for volunteers, this is very important.”

Hermione gave me a worried look. “A-alright.”

Good, with me taking a different class, I wouldn’t be there to gain Buckbeak’s trust. Harry’s acquaintance with Buckbeak had allowed him to approach the Hippogriff easily when saving him at the end of the film. If Hermione did so in my place, there wouldn’t be any repercussions from my course deviation from the canon timeline. 

“And try not to let Malfoy go up to it if you can.” I added with a wince.

Her incredulous expression told me just about how easy that would be.

  
  
  
  


Later that day was the class that I’d been most excited for, Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, Professor Lupin decided to be late to class. I looked around the room in boredom, giving the chatting and rowdy thirteen-year-olds disinterested glances. 

Well, time for a little unrest.

I huffed a deep breath in anticipation as I got up from my desk and made my way to the front of the class and stood beside Lupin’s desk. Here comes Adeline Potter’s new reputation as a seer. If this went right, people would hopefully think that I was one of those dumb mooning girls in Trelawney’s class- like those two girls from the book… er, whose names I didn’t remember. 

“Everyone, I have an announcement!” I declared.

“Sit down, Potter!” One of the Slytherins in the back- Blaise Zabini, I think- jeered.

I paid the boy no mind. “I have just recently discovered my talent in divination-”

At that, there was a chorus of groans and boos around the class- most of them would have taken our first Divination class by now and would be acquainted with Professor Trelawney.

“-And I have a prediction to make!”

Then, the door at the back of the class swung open and hit the stone wall as it stopped, sending a small  _ ‘clang’ _ throughout the room. I paused in my little speech as we all looked toward the back of the class.

Professor Lupin stood in the doorway, a bemused expression on his face. “Er, what are you doing up there, Miss Potter?”

“Ah! Professor! You can confirm my prediction, if you’d be so kind?” I said brightly.

Lupin furrowed his brow in curiosity and his mouth quirked up. “I see no harm in that.”

At his reply, I noticed Malfoy’s group of Slytherins start up a quiet dialogue, their expressions derisive and sneering.

“I predict… that today’s class will be a practical one, without the use of our textbooks.” I said easily, giving Lupin a sly smirk. “In fact, we may all be using our wands today! Yes, it’s becoming clearer now, we will learn a new spell, one that may seem, at first, a little… ridiculous.” 

“Very… intriguing, Miss Potter.” Lupin replied as he made his way up the aisle. “In fact, I think you may be onto something.”

Whispers broke out around the classroom.

He set down his old, frayed book bag onto his desk and gave me a pointed look. “You may take your seat now.”

“Ah, right.” I nodded, then returned to my desk, giving Hermione a mischievous look. 

Lupin gave a tight, hesitant smile to the rest of the class and clapped his hands together. “Now that my surprise has been partially spoiled by Miss Potter, I will ask you all to leave your books here and follow me… bring only your wands, please.”

We all followed Lupin out of the classroom, students whispered all around, speculating where he was taking us. A few people caught up to me and Hermione and tried to grill me for more details, though I only replied that I wouldn’t spoil the surprise any more than I had already. Finally, we arrived at the staff room on the same floor, one that I hadn’t snuck into yet.

As the class filed into the rather spacious lounge, I spotted Snape seated in a comfy looking armchair near the fireplace, reading a newspaper. He looked up when the door opened, and immediately made an expression of disgust and annoyance as he examined the students. When his black, glittering gaze fell on me, I gave him a sarcastic smile and wave. 

He scoffed, folded up the paper, then stood up. “Leave the door open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.”

He strode across the lounge, students parting quickly around him, his jet black robes flicking at his heels. At the doorway, he turned on his heel to add with a mean smirk, “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.”

I winced at the insult- harsh. I glanced at the boy in question, Neville had flushed red.

“I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation, and I am sure he will perform it admirably.” Lupin replied coolly.

Snape sneered at his ex-classmate and promptly departed the staff room. 

“Now, if you will all direct your attention to that wardrobe, there.” Lupin said brightly.

Almost as though it had heard him, the Boggart within the wardrobe bucked wildly, sending the wardrobe jolting and wobbling in place, making an awful racket as one end lifted off the floor, only to slam back down.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” Lupin asked. “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?”

“That’s a Boggart, that is.” Dean Thomas called out.

“Very good, Mister Thomas.” Lupin replied. “Now can anyone tell me what a Boggart looks like?”

The wardrobe gave another worryingly violent rattle, causing a few students to jump back.

“No one knows.” Hermione replied beside me. “Boggarts are shape-shifters, they take the shape of whatever the particular person fears the most. That’s what makes them so-”

“-So terrifying, yes.” Lupin finished. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart-”

The wardrobe shook so hard that a small cloud of dust was jostled off the top and floated to the ground.

“Let’s practice it now- er,  _ without _ wands, please.” Lupin continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “Now, repeat after me,  _ Riddikulus _ !”

“Riddikulus!” We repeated.

“Very good.” Lupin said. “Now, a little louder, very clear.”

“Riddikulus!” Most of the class yelled it that time.

“This class is ridiculous.” Malfoy muttered behind me, causing me to snort.

“Very good!” Lupin said with a smile. “Well, so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart is laughter, you need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing… Let me explain. Neville, will you join me please?”

Neville gave Lupin a look of pure terror.

“Now come on, don’t be shy, come on.” Lupin coaxed him. 

Neville hesitantly made his way up to the front of the group to Lupin. 

“Neville, what frightens you most of all?” He asked.

Neville flushed red again and muttered something under his breath. 

Lupin leaned down to try to hear his reply, “Sorry?”

Neville visibly gulped, “Professor Snape.”

Laughter sounded throughout the room at that.

“Professor Snape.” Lupin echoed, stifling his own laughter. “He frightens all. And, I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Yes, but I don’t want the Boggart to turn into her, either!” Neville exclaimed, causing another round of laughter among the students. 

I tilted my head as I watched the two, letting out a quiet sigh in my impatience. I wanted to get this scene over with.

Lupin shook his head. “No, it won’t. Now, I want you to picture her clothes, only her clothes, very clearly in your mind.”

Neville squinted his eyes shut. “She carries a red handbag-”

“No, no, we don’t need to hear.” Lupin interjected gently. “As long as you see it, we’ll see it.”

Neville nodded.

“Now, when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do…” Then, Lupin leaned forward to whisper into Neville’s ear. After a beat, Nevile drew back sharply, and gave Lupin a look of surprise.

“Can you do that?” Lupin asked.

Hesitantly, Neville gave a nod. Lupin smiled, then drew his wand and turned to stand a little behind Neville, facing the wardrobe.

“Wand at the ready!” He announced.

Neville drew his own wand and pointed it at the wardrobe. 

“One, two, three.” Lupin counted down, then flicked his wand, opening the wardrobe door.

Suddenly, as the door swung open with a loud creak, a hand darted out and grasped onto the outside edge of the wardrobe. Then, an identical copy of Professor Snape pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped out of the wardrobe. Looking a touch more sinister than he usually would, he strode imperiously toward Neville, who stumbled back.

“Think, Neville, think.” Lupin urged quietly.

“R-Riddikulus!” Neville exclaimed.

With a sound like a crack of a whip, the Snape-Boggart stumbled backwards, then its clothes had suddenly transformed! I let out a sharp bark of laughter at the figure of Snape now dressed in a green tweed skirt and blazer set, topped off with a bright red handbag and a wide-brimmed hat, bearing a large, taxidermy vulture on top. The Boggart darted its head around in confusion at the roar of laughter rolling from the students around the staff room.

“Wonderful, Neville! Incredible!” Lupin let out a laugh of his own. “Okay, to the back Neville. Everyone, form a line!”

All the students quickly rushed to get into a line toward Lupin. However, despite the students’ enthusiasm to participate, no one was letting themselves be pushed into the front of the line. Everyone kept breaking off and shoving themselves somewhere into the middle and pushing everyone else forward. It was all a great scramble, really. Adding to the absolute chaos, was Malfoy and his friends catching on and shoving people back toward the front of the line when they made a break for it. 

I crouched down, making myself shorter than I already was, and purposely split from Hermione and Ron, leaving them together in the crowd. I didn’t try to leave the line from the outside, lest someone notice me, but pushed and weaseled my way through the column of teenagers, heading in a vague direction toward the back of the room, zig-zagging and doubling back a few times. 

When I was satisfied with how far I was at the back, I straightened and got ready to watch as the next victim, Ron, incidentally, was up.

“I want you all to picture the thing you fear the very most!” Lupin called over the din.

“Too coward to go next?” 

I gave a small start as a sudden voice sounded behind me. I whipped around to see Malfoy there, sneering down at me.

I ignored the events up front and turned to reply. “Do you really wanna know what I’m afraid of, Malfoy?”

He gave a scoff and shrugged, bringing my attention to a sling around his arm. Damn, so I hadn’t been able to divert Buckbeak’s attack. I didn’t have time to ask Hermione about her Care of Magical Creatures class before DADA, though I made a mental note to interrogate her about the specifics of what happened later.

“Please,” He drawled, “Ickle Potty’s probably scared people will stop recognizing her in bookshops- or better yet, losing your fame entirely?”

I gave him a wry look. “And how did I get that fame again?”

Malfoy’s expression flattened as he furrowed his brows.

I gave a sarcastic laugh, then leaned up on my tip-toes to look him in the eye. “I’m standing here at the back so that you don’t drop into a dead faint when you see Lord Voldemort for the first time, Malfoy.”

For a moment, he didn’t give any response, though I noticed a minute flex of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He narrowed his eyes at me, gave a scoff, then sauntered off to rejoin his friends, leaving me at the back of the room. Satisfied with the impression I made on the boy, I turned back to continue to watch the proceedings with the Boggart.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what my greatest fear was. These kids were lucky, they had superficial fears like an especially mean teacher, or spiders, whereas I was a thirty-one-year-old woman who was not only reborn into a child’s body with all her memories intact, but was reborn into a fictional book series. There was no telling what my greatest fear could be, I’ve certainly been concerned about quite a many of things; being caught, being caught then being exploited, being caught then being experimented on, making a mistake which would lead to the ruination of the timeline, causing Voldemort to win, Voldemort himself, Dumbledore (depending on the day), never seeing my family again, dying as Adeline Potter, dying at all actually, finding out that I’m actually dead and this is all taking place within the last few dregs of energy my dying brain can muster up, finding out that I’m actually crazy and conjuring all this in a mental hospital, dying and finding out hell is actually real, possibly being stuck in a time loop, and so on and so forth. I could really go on forever about these kinds of daily worries.

When the line dwindled down and there were only about seven other students before me, I caught Lupin’s eye and somewhat obviously glanced at the Boggart, then to him, then back to the Boggart, then back to him. I tilted my head in askance and raised my brows. I already knew that Lupin was under the impression that the Boggart would turn into Voldemort for me, and had run in front of Harry to face the Boggart himself in canon- so there was a high chance he would let me opt out of participating in this class.

Sure enough, I saw him let out a short sigh, then he jerked his head to the side, quietly telling me to come over. 

“Hi Professor.” I said as I came to lean against the wall beside him.

“Hello Miss Potter.” He replied, a wry smile tipping his mouth.

Then, we just watched the rest of the proceedings in silence.

Lupin didn’t make note of my lack of participation as he corralled everyone back toward the back of the staff room and locked the Boggart back in the wardrobe with a nonverbal spell.

“Now,” He said as we walked down the corridors back to the classroom, “An excellent first lesson everyone, you all performed admirably. Ten points to Neville for going first and five points for every other person to tackle the Boggart. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me… to be handed in on Monday.”

Everyone then collected their books from the classroom and promptly left in high spirits, several thanking Professor Lupin for the interesting class and bidding him goodbye on their way out. However, I hung back near my desk, I hadn’t even retrieved my bookbag. I tipped my chin at Hermione when she hesitated near the door, silently telling her to go on. I didn’t have another class after this and dinner wasn’t for another hour or so, so I wouldn’t be missing anything talking with Lupin.

“I’m sure we both know the reason I didn’t try the Boggart.” I said wryly. 

Lupin gave a light laugh as he passed me going toward his desk. 

“Indeed.” He replied, then gave me a solemn look. “Though are you sure that your Boggart would take the form of Lord Voldemort?”

I drew back in surprise at the question. “Um, I’m not, to be honest.”

“No?” Lupin said, his voice somewhat teasing. “I would have thought you would be certain, what with your clearly superior abilities of divination.”

I let out a surprised laugh. 

“Nah, that’s not how it works.” I scratched the back of my head, somewhat embarrassed. “That’s uh, why I stayed back, actually.”

I took in a deep breath. “Can you take me back to the staff room so I can… tackle the Boggart, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao guess which of Addie’s fears (that she lists to herself) will come to pass by the end of the fic. Also, any thoughts as to what her Boggart might be?


	20. It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad School!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addie's Boggart is revealed!
> 
> Some familiar events occur!
> 
> Addie is still pissed that she hasn't progressed with her true plans for this year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took an actual month to update!
> 
> Unfortunately, the next update won't come too soon. The earliest I can do is probably at the beginning of February.

I followed Lupin back down the same corridor toward the staff lounge, gripping the strap of my bookbag so tight I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers. He gave me a reassuring smile as he reached to open the door.

“Giving Potter special treatment already, Lupin?”

We both turned to see Snape striding down the hall toward us.

“Also, are you going to monopolize the staff room the entire day?” He sneered. “Why not give the students free reign at this point?”

“Professor Snape.” Lupin greeted blandly. “Miss Potter here is just having her turn to take a crack at the Boggart, we ran out of time during class.”

“How convenient.” Snape said, stopping to join us at the staff room door. 

Lupin and Snape held each other’s gaze for a moment, seemingly facing off. Then, Snape tipped his head toward the door.

“Well then, I won’t stop Potter’s lesson, Professor.” He said silkily. “Please, after you.”

I just barely stifled a groan. Just great, Snape, of all people, wanted to sit in on me facing my greatest fear. Lupin glanced down at me, I could see the beginnings of concern on his face. I rolled my eyes in annoyance at it all. 

“After  _ me _ .” I said angrily, after the silence was getting awkward. I walked into the staff room, my mood darkening and the butterflies in my stomach multiplying. 

I stopped in the middle of the room, facing the wardrobe, and tossed my bookbag onto the floor. I took a deep breath and hopped in place for a moment, hyping myself up.

“Fear not, Potter, you’ve defeated a Dark Lord.” Snape commented behind me. “An ordinary Boggart should prove no challenge for you and your… heroics.”

The wardrobe gave a great shudder, and nearly tipped over, making me jump. I let out a mix of a laugh and a scoff, a sound a little more high pitched than I’d meant to make. 

Lupin eyed Snape and I curiously as he drew his wand. 

“Are you ready, Adeline?” He asked gently.

I drew my own wand and held it tightly. For a split second, I forgot the spell I needed to cast. 

“Uh, Riddikulus.” I nodded jerkily to myself. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Lupin flicked his wand and opened the wardrobe door. The fact that it creeped open all too slowly with an audible  _ creeeeeeaaaak _ was not helping my nerves.

I let out a shaky breath, raising my wand toward the wardrobe. Then, a loud bark of laughter, not unlike my own, broke out in the empty air, startling me. I waited silently, wanting to see my worst fear realized. Then, a figure solidified in the wardrobe, partially shrouded by the cloaks hanging inside. The figure slowly stepped out, light from the lamp behind me lighting up its face. When I saw it, I gasped sharply in surprise.

It was me.

Not ‘me’ as I was presently, in the body of Adeline Potter, but the face that I was born with; the face that I saw in the Mirror of Erised and the one that I wore when I met Tom Riddle. I drew back, straightening out of a hunch that I hadn’t noticed I’d taken, and met her eyes; blue flecked with brown, terribly unlike the green I’d inherited from Lily Evans.

My copy smiled- a sharp, menacing thing. She looked me up and down, bearing an expression that spoke her thoughts plainly to me:  _ still trapped in a world of fiction? _

I let out a frustrated huff.

“Wand at the ready, Adeline.” Lupin said sharply.

I glanced down. I hadn’t noticed that I lowered my wand.

My copy gave a light laugh. 

“Adeline.” She echoed mockingly. 

I tipped my head to the side in slight confusion. My old voice was raspier than I’d remembered. I gave the copy another look over. She seemed taller as well, with less roundness in the cheeks.

“You’re older.” I muttered.

The Boggart wasn’t a true copy of myself as Madeline Fischer, but what I’d imagined myself to look like in my twenties or thirties- as an adult. It was odd, looking at a fantasy made reality before my eyes. 

“Adeline,” Lupin urged, “You know the spell.”

A grin broke out on Older Madeline’s face as she turned to Lupin, as though just now fully realizing that he was there.

“Listen to  _ Professor Lupin _ , Adeline.” Her sharpened gaze then flicked behind me. “Or  _ Professor Snape _ . You liked both of them, right? Of course, we both know where  _ they _ end up at the end of-”

“Riddikulus!” I said sharply.

Suddenly, the form before me shattered, creating a thunderous  _ ‘smash’ _ of glass. I watched, transfixed, as the miniscule shards hit the ground then promptly bounced back into the wardrobe like animated chunks of porcelain. I saw Lupin wave his wand out of the corner of my eye, sending the wardrobe door slamming closed.

I dropped my arm, letting out a sigh. 

“That was aggravating.” I said, in what would have been a wry tone had I not also sounded so tired.    
  


“Underwhelming, more like.” Snape said flatly. I heard him stride across the room behind me, the staff door opening, then closing. I still stared at the wardrobe. 

“Are you alright, Adeline?” I felt Lupin’s hand on my shoulder.

I sighed again. “Yeah, that was just… unexpected.” 

“Do you… need to talk or-” He said hesitantly.

I finally glanced up at him and gave him a tired smile. “I’m fine.”

  
  
  
  


However, I knew as I walked back down the halls to the Ravenclaw common room that I wasn’t totally fine- which, I mused, was becoming my new normal for the past few years. Despite finally seeing what my Boggart would take the shape of-  _ me as who I could have been _ \- I still wasn’t totally sure what it represented. I had some ideas, sure, but nothing I was willing to admit to myself… else I’d likely be faced with a personal crisis, which, of course, I certainly  _ did not _ have time for. 

Regardless, I had to focus back on how this new revelation would affect my plans (and bury the conflicting feelings within me). My Boggart didn’t turn out to be a Dementor. Regrettable, though I hadn't really expected it to. However, my Boggart being different from Harry’s brought yet another hindrance; I wouldn’t be able to properly practice my Patronus charm this year. Sure, I could practice the spell with Lupin without the effects of a Dementor- which I had already considered as a possibility- but I wouldn’t be able to practice in the right environment to fully prepare me to face off against a whole horde of the monsters at the end of the year.

I would have to figure out how to practice around a Dementor in a safe environment. 

I had time to solve this problem, however. A whole school year, in fact. For the first few months, I’d just have to focus on getting the charm itself correct, and produce a Patronus in a shield form at least. Although, I would have to be able to produce a fully corporeal one by the year’s end. 

  
  
  
  


“So, what happened to Malfoy?” I asked, taking a seat at the Gryffindor table, likely interrupting a conversation or two.

“Why don’t you just switch over to Gryffindor at this rate, Potter?” Seamus Finnigan called down the table, noticing my arrival. “You’re loitering here almost every day.”

I grinned. “Then I‘d have to see  _ you _ more often, Finnigan, and I’m not sure my stomach can handle that.”

That caused a surge of laughter from the rest of the Gryffindor boys within earshot. Finnigan scoffed and lazily tossed a chicken wing at me, which I caught and took a bite out of.

“You know, Seamus’ got a crush on you.” Ron leaned over and muttered to me.

I drew back in surprise. “He does  _ not _ .”

Ron nodded sagely. “Yep, talks about you in the dorm sometimes… actually, a lotta the blokes talk about you in the dorms.”

“Figures.” I scoffed. “Blegh.”

“Too good for Seamus?” 

I turned around in my seat to see Ginny standing behind me in the aisle.

“You’re in my seat, by the way.” She added.

I squinted my eyes at her. “Shouldn’t you be with your own yearmates, young lady?”

She grinned. “A girl can’t visit with her brother and his friends?”

I sighed then edged over on the bench, pushing Hermione over with me. Hermione grunted with annoyance before lifting her plate and moving it down the table. Ginny promptly sat in between me and Ron and began getting a plate of food for herself.

“So, Seamus Finnigan?” She reiterated.

“What about him?” I asked, annoyance creeping into my tone.

“Gonna ask him out?” She asked.

“Eugh, no!” I exclaimed. “He’s literally a child.”

“You’re the same age.” Hermione interjected on my other side.

I almost replied that;  _ No, I’m not _ \- but caught myself.

“Er, right, well… I’m way more mature than him, is what I mean.” I said.

“Anyway!” I added when I saw Ginny open her mouth to argue. “I came here to ask what the hell happened to Malfoy!”

“You aren’t interested in Malfoy, are you?” Ginny asked incredulously.

I nearly slammed my hands on the table when I heard Hermione start to laugh at Ginny’s question.

“Hermione,” I said pointedly, ignoring Ginny, “What happened?”

“Oh, today during Hagrid’s class!” Ron interjected through a mouthful of chicken. “It was bloody brilliant, I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?” I asked, turning again. I was going to get a crick in my neck at this point.

“I rode a Hippogriff!” He exclaimed.

I paused.

“You did?” I asked tonelessly. That was not part of the plan. 

I turned slowly to face Hermione in askance, my face deadpan.

She winced. “I’m sorry, Addie, I was too scared.”

“Just tell me what happened.” I said calmly.

Hermione made an apologetic face and started to explain. “I told Ron to volunteer to ride the Hippogriff in my place. I gave him all the warnings you gave me, about how it was perfectly safe so long as you bow and be respectful.”

My brows furrowed. Hermione must have noticed my change in expression, because she held out a hand and quickly added.

“But he was brilliant! He rode Buckbeak all around the castle grounds!” She exclaimed, then paused. “Only… after Ron got off, Malfoy ran up and started insulting Buckbeak, calling him a pigeon and whatnot, and Buckbeak attacked him and scratched him on the arm.”

“It wasn’t even that bad, the tosspot!” Ron interjected. “He’s just playing it up to get Hagrid sacked!”

Hermione nodded. “I reckon so too.”

I leaned back in my seat, processing. I suppose this could still work, my plan hadn’t been completely derailed. All I would have to do now would be to make sure that Ron was with us when we went to go face Sirius, which would happen anyway since Sirius was after Pettigrew disguised as Scabbers. This could work…  _ this could work _ .

  
  
  
  


“Now, remember, these visits to Hogsmeade Village are a privilege.” McGonagall announced to the large group of third year students in the main courtyard on a chilly November morning. “Should your behaviour reflect poorly on the school in any way, that privilege shall not be extended to you again.”

I sighed to myself as I leaned against a stone pillar with my arms crossed, waiting for the professor to finish. Of course, I’d forgotten entirely about the permission form in the chaos of my sleeplessness caused by the diary Horcrux and my subsequent ejection from the Dursley household. 

“All those with permission, follow me.” Filch announced gruffly. “Those without, stay put.”

I watched as he led the group of teens toward the exit of the courtyard. I caught Hermione’s eye as she hesitated to leave. I uncrossed an arm and waved it at her, shooing her on. As Hermione began to leave with Ron, I pushed off the pillar and made my way over to McGonagall.

“No permission form signed, no visiting the village.” She said before I could even open my mouth. “That’s the rule.”

I huffed a sigh. “Look, Professor, you said it yourself that I live with the worst sort of Muggles imaginable.”

McGonagall’s face tightened. “No exceptions, Potter.”

She started striding back into the castle before I could reply.

I growled to myself as I watched her walk away. I could have called after her to tell her that the Dursleys had kicked me out. That would definitely have garnered sympathy that I could use. However, there was also a strong chance that McGonagall would go to Dumbledore about it- or worse, take me to Dumbledore and have me explain myself. I’d have to make up some story about the Durselys and why I left, which could put Dumbledore onto the scent of the diary Horcrux if he ever decided to visit Number 4 Privet Drive, something I couldn’t allow yet. 

Regardless, I couldn’t return to the Dursleys even if Dumbledore didn’t find out about the Horcrux, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch a wink of sleep. A week or two without sleeping was doable, however undesirable, but I couldn’t go a whole summer plagued by the diary. Vindictively, I had hoped that the Dursleys themselves would have been affected like I was, hearing voices and having nightmares, but the damn muggles hadn’t so much as changed a habit. 

I had a few theories as to why this was. I knew that one ordinarily had to write in the diary for it to have influence over a person, which none of us had, so the Dursleys couldn’t possibly be affected how the diary was intended to. I was the outlier in this case. Obviously, this was because I was a Horcrux as well… or something. I wasn't totally sure on that front, though it was the likeliest reason. 

Either way, I wasn’t telling any of the faculty about my current living situation, or lack thereof.

  
  
  


I caught up with Hermione- and subsequently, Ron- after they came back from their Hogsmeade trip. I’d spent the time lazing about the Ravenclaw common room and tossing crumpled up sheets of paper in the air and magically setting them on fire. It was actually a fair way to practice my aim.

I was walking down to the main courtyard to meet them when I’d practically been run over by Ron turning a corner. He hadn’t seen me over a rather large pile of paper bags full of candies from Honeydukes. I decided to walk them up to the Gryffindor common room, being bored out of my mind and desperate for any kind of conversation at that point.

Ron was happy to fill the silence describing his wonder of Hogsmeade Village.

“-Honeydukes Sweet Shop is brilliant!” He exclaimed as we marched up a moving staircase, followed by some of the other Gryffindors who had come from Hogsmeade. “But  _ nothing _ beats Zonko’s Joke Shop.”

Hermione caught my gaze and rolled her eyes from behind Rom.

“We never did get to go to the Shrieking Shack, though.” Ron continued, happily oblivious. “You know, it’s the most haunted building in Britain.”

“Seriously?” I asked mildly. 

“Yeah!” He said. “You hear loads of stories about-”

“What’s that crowd there for?” Hermione interjected, looking past us.

I turned to where she was looking and saw that there was indeed a large crowd on the landing, all milling around the portrait door to the Gryffindor common room. I hitched a breath sharply through my nose, barely keeping from gasping in realization, when I recognized which scene this was.

“Probably Neville’s forgotten the password again.” Ron drawled, prompting an insulted “Hey!” from behind us.

Ron turned and made an exclamation of surprise when he saw Neville standing a few steps down on the staircase, beside Seamus and Dean. 

“Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, then.” Ron said sheepishly.

As our staircase shifted into place and connected with the landing above, we all moved to get a closer look.

“Excuse me!” I could hear an indignant voice over the din. “I’m head boy!”

Ah, Percy Weasley.

“Get back, all of you.” He said sternly. I could just see over someone’s shoulder that Percy had taken up post standing in front of the empty portrait. Almost exactly like in the film, the Fat Lady’s portrait was empty, bearing three symmetrical gashes across it, causing the canvas to peel back, exposing the wooden frame behind… Courtesy of Sirius Black.

“No one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched.” He continued.

Just then, Ginny appeared in front of us, having elbowed her way through the crowd to get down to our staircase. “The Fat Lady, she’s gone!”

“Serves her right, she was a terrible singer.” Ron said wryly, surprising a brief bark of laughter out of me.

“That isn’t funny, you two!” Hermione chastised.

I looked over and saw that she looked seriously worried. I leaned over and put my hand on her arm, catching her attention.

“It’s okay.” I said softly. “No one’s hurt.”

She held my gaze, lips pursed in concern, then her expression calmed somewhat.

However, it was a bit difficult to completely calm oneself in this atmosphere. As more and more Gryffindors arrived to their common room, making the crowd grow, the noise increased as well. I could see students from other houses on the fringes of the crowd as well and looking over from other landings in the large tower. Everyone was talking, plus the portraits lining the walls around the area- in fact, I could even hear a baby crying from some painting nearby.

“The Headmaster’s here!” Someone exclaimed. 

The students on my staircase all turned to see Dumbledore striding up the stairs behind us. We all pressed ourselves to the sides of the staircase to make way for him and Filch following behind, carrying his cat. Dumbledore met my gaze briefly as he passed, his face grave.

He approached the ripped up painting and stopped to examine it, passing a hand over the largest tear in the canvas. Behind him, Filch had turned to scan the portraits around the interior of the tower, looking for the Fat Lady. 

“Mister Filch,” Dumbledore said, still examining the portrait. “Round up the ghosts, tell them to search every painting in the castle to find the Fat Lady.”

I readied myself to start moving, I knew what happened next.

“There’s no need for ghosts, Professor.” Filch replied in his gravelly, meandering voice. He raised a hand to point at an area of the wall one staircase up. “The Fat Lady’s there.”

There was a beat of pure silence as everyone whipped around to look up at where Filch was pointing. A split second later, a cacophony of footsteps sounded as everyone across the upper staircase, the main landing, and our lower staircase moved in unison. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all ran beside me as we climbed the steps to get up to the Fat Lady. Dumbledore and Filch ran a few metres in front of us, separated by dozens of students all crammed together on the stairs.

We ran up a whole flight of stairs, almost rounding the entire width of the large tower. When the higher group of students reached the portrait in question, they all slowed. However, prompts from Dumbledore to keep moving had them climb another staircase so the Headmaster could stand in front of the painting.

Ron, tall and reedy as he was, had no trouble looking over heads to see what was going on. Hermione and I, on the other hand, had to crane our necks to look over shoulders and catch a glimpse of the action. Ginny had no chance of seeing anything, being almost half a foot shorter than me.

“Dear Lady,” I could hear Dumbledore say in a calming tone, “Who did this to you?”

The Fat Lady’s voice was more easily heard than Dumbledore’s, being shrill and panic-stricken. “Eyes like the devil, he’s got!” 

I remembered this scene from the movie, the Fat Lady had been peeking out from over a hippo.

She sobbed. “And a soul as dark as his name. It’s him, Headmaster… the one they all talk about… he’s here… somewhere in the castle… Sirius Black!”

Pandemonium broke out around us.

“Secure the castle, Mister Filch.” I could just barely hear Dumbledore say.

“The rest of you!” He raised his voice to be heard over the chaos. “To the Great Hall!”

At his urging, the students were all too happy to retreat to the safety of the Great Hall, where there would presumably be strength in numbers. Hermione caught my sleeve in a silent prompt to go down the stairs with her and the Weasleys. I shot a glance toward Dumbledore up the staircase, but the Headmaster had already swiftly moved away, his green patterned robes roiling behind him. 

I turned to follow Hermione to the Great Hall.

It was a full moon- I noticed as I stared dully out of one of the large windows in the Great Hall, bored out of my mind. Lupin must be having an interesting time, completely locked out of the castle. The teachers had rounded up every single bloody student and put us all in the Great Hall. The tables had been cleared away to make room for hundreds of sleeping bags on the floor. Thankfully, Flitwick had gone around putting heating charms all over the stone so we wouldn’t freeze, as well as light cushioning charms on the sleeping bags. How thoughtful of him.

It wasn’t difficult for me to fall asleep that night. I was quite possibly the least worried person in the castle. Thanks to my knowledge of the future of this reality, I knew that I was presently in no danger. I think that Hermione and Ginny lying beside me could tell that I was unbothered by everything, and took strength from that, as they quickly relaxed into their sleeping bags as I did.

Minutely, I considered feigning sleep so that I could eavesdrop on the nice little monologue that Dumbledore gave to Snape about the world of dreams and all that, but I concluded that I liked sleeping a little more than sneaking.

The next day was, very conveniently, Halloween. Luckily, it was a Sunday, so students were free to whisper and gossip about Sirius Black the whole day. I saw no sign of Professor Lupin. Likely, he was still in the forest or recovering from his transformation either in his chambers or the hospital wing. The Halloween feast was no less lively than past years, however, for different reasons. 

  
  
  
  


“You’re telling  _ me _ that seeing the future is impossible? Me?” I said wryly.

Hermione and I were walking down to DADA class about a month after the whole Sirius Black debacle. The rumours and conspiracy theories had mostly died down, but I still heard the odd whisper of my name followed by Black’s in the halls, or the infrequent glances at me out of the corner of a fearful eye. The most common question after Sirius had accosted the Fat Lady was not how he had gotten into the castle (though that was a close second), but why hadn’t he gone to Ravenclaw Tower instead of Gryffindor’s? After all, the famous Girl-Who-Lived, Adeline Potter, was a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. 

The resulting consensus between the gossiping student body had apparently been that Black had just assumed that I would have been in Gryffindor House because my similarly famous ‘parents’, Lily and James Potter, had been Gryffindors at Hogwarts in their time.

Anyway, Hermione and I had caught up with each other a few hours after yet another spectacle of a Divination class. After seeing Trelawney teaching in action for almost three months now, Hermione was certain that the whole practice of divination was a complete sham. She’d now taken it upon herself to try to convince anyone who would listen that Trelawney was a fraud, especially me.

“Well, no! There are other, better proven methods to divine the future. Arithmancy, for example, is all backed up by math and arithmetic- it’s a science, really.” Hermione argued.

“I don’t use science, Hermione, and I have a pretty good handle on the future.” I said.

“That’s different!” She exclaimed, jumping forward and turning around to face me while walking backward through the corridor. “But surely you didn’t believe the rubbish that she said to you today?”

I huffed a sigh. Ironic that Hermione would say such a thing after this specific Divination class. This time, Trelawney had made her most accurate “prediction” yet during our first dream interpretation lesson. 

“Just because you dream of a family sitting around a Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t mean that you’ve suddenly  _ ‘remembered a past life’ _ ! It probably just means that you miss-” Hermione cut herself off and nearly stumbled.

I stopped too, letting her regain her bearings.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.” I said flatly, trying to tamp down a surprising flash of anger that shot through my chest at the girl’s words.

In fact, I had truly dreamt of a past life- my own, as Madeline Fischer. In my dreams last night, I had relived a memory of a Thanksgiving dinner at my mum’s house when I was sixteen. Feeling bittersweetly nostalgic, I had answered honestly when Trelawney had suddenly called on me during class to go over the most recent dream that I could remember. Now, the ‘sweet’ part had somehow disappeared from my earlier bittersweet feelings, leaving me gripping my books in an effort to suppress myself.

“Anyway,” I added, “Defense is about to start, we should hurry up.”

I ignored Hermione’s apologetic looks as we walked to our seats, mentally chastising myself. Really, a little girl’s words should not elicit such an emotional reaction from me. 

I turned my mind to other, more pressing, thoughts at hand; my plans. I still hadn’t caught Lupin alone to ask him to teach me how to do a damn Patronus charm, unfortunately. Thinking I could figure it out myself, I’d been attempting the spell for weeks after my encounter with the Boggart. I certainly knew what was supposed to happen and the general principles of the spell casting, but I still couldn’t even produce so much as a wisp. I reassured myself that keeping to the timeline anyway and asking Lupin for help with the charm was a good thing either way.

Suddenly, a loud  _ ‘slam’ _ at the back of the class made me jump. I whipped around in my seat to see Snape striding up the aisle toward the large sheet hung up at the front. I turned back around and quietly cursed myself for forgetting to check the full moon date for November. This was evidently going to be Snape’s infamous substitute class about werewolves. 

Knowing what was about to happen, it wordlessly flipped open my textbook and went to page 394, then opened Hermione’s beside me. She gave me a confused look, but I just shook my head, mentally hoping she wouldn’t talk.

As he walked, Snape flicked his wand rather dramatically and spelled each shutter on the windows closed with the sound of a cracking whip, one at a time. He swirled over to the front and whipped around to address the class. 

“Turn to page three-hundred-and-ninety- _ four _ .” He said menacingly- if that was even possible to do.

Snape seemed quite gleeful at the prospect of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for once, maybe even more so because it was Lupin’s class. However, Snape in a good mood meant bad news for the rest of us.

There was palpable confusion around the class at his command. We were nowhere near that part of the course yet, being November. The section on werewolves was right at the end of the year.

“Your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time.” Snape said with a twisted smile as he slowly walked back down the centre aisle toward the projector at the back of the room. “So I will be substituting until further notice.”

He tapped the projector with his wand and the device lit up. He turned back to the class and his dark, glittering gaze zeroed in on someone behind me and his expression hardened. He made a small, sharp gesture with his hand, something that I just barely kept myself from flinching from, and I heard a sudden flutter of pages and a faint thudding sound behind me. Then I heard Ron exclaim, “Werewolves?”

_ And so we begin. _

“Hermione,” I whispered, “Don’t-”

“But Sir,” She piped up beside me, turning in her seat to address Snape.

“Damnit.” I muttered.

“We’ve just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks.” She said. “We’re not meant to start nocturnal beats for weeks.” 

“Quiet.” Snape said coldly.

“Now,” He continued, walking back down the aisle at a languid pace, “Which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?”

Hermione raised her hand beside me.

“No one?” Snape ignored her, of course. “How disappointing.”

“Hermione,” I hissed, leaning over to whisper to her, “You’re just going to get into trouble.”

“Potter!” Snape called. “Why don’t you tell the class what the difference is?”

I pursed my lips and looked up at Snape.

“An Animagus, like Professor McGonagall, is a witch or wizard who elects to transform into an animal form, an ability granted by a specific transfiguration ritual. The wizard retains his sanity and mind throughout this shift.” I explained calmly. “A werewolf, however, is a witch or wizard cursed to transform into a beast during every full moon. This beast does not possess the person’s true mind unless the wizard takes a  _ wolfsbane potion- _ ”

I paused to give him a pointed look.

“-beforehand. As such, a werewolf is very dangerous to normal people and will kill indiscriminately otherwise.”

Snape stared at me for a few seconds, his black eyes unreadable. “Satisfactory.” 

After he turned away, I rolled my eyes at his back.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for rolling your eyes at me, Potter.” Snape added, his back still turned.

My jaw dropped open and my hands came up reflexively in a ‘what the hell?’ gesture.

The rest of the class was exceedingly dull compared to Defense lessons with Lupin. Snape did a half hour long lecture on werewolves and how bloody terrible they were, then made us take notes from the textbook’s chapter. He prowled up and down the aisle like he had at the beginning of class, stooping over people’s shoulders and just generally being an ass. Halfway through note taking he stopped behind my desk and loudy disparaged my handwriting- for the millionth time.

Then, he sat at Lupin’s desk and poked through his course notes and other papers inside the drawers, then loudly commented his thoughts to the class.

“Very poorly explained…” He mused. “That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn’t have given it three…” 

Then, finally, he gave us a goddamn essay to do when the bell rang- to be handed in to  _ him _ personally.

“On my desk by Monday morning, two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with particular emphasis on recognizing and killing it.” He said coldly, over groans from the kids on the various Quidditch teams. 

Overall, that class could have gone better, though it certainly could have gone worse.

And damnit, I still needed to talk to Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning Addie's Boggart, her fear is more symbolic like Lupin's. Lupin's Boggart turns into a full moon- he's not afraid of the moon itself, but his lycanthropy triggered by the phases of the moon. I believe that this would be the case for most adults to have a conceptual or abstract fear, rather than children who have simpler fears like a spider or a snake, like we see in the DADA class.
> 
> Addie's Boggart becomes herself as an adult, the version of her that she never really got to become. She is afraid of what might have been, had she not woken up in a fictional world, and also that she may never be able to return to her own world to live out her adult life and grow into the person that she was meant to be. It's all very existential lol.


End file.
